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NO PLEASANTER PLACE THAN OAKHURST.” Page I37 







LUCY BROAD’S CHOICE 


a 





MRS. a/m^4iCKFORD 


If 

AUTHOR OF ‘‘paths AND BY-PATHS ” 




TBACH ME THY WAY, O LORD, AND LEAD MB IN A PLAIN PATH." 

Psa. a/: n 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

lO EAST 25D STREET, NEW YORK 




15099 


COPYRIGHT, 1898, 

BY AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



TWOCOflES RtCtlVED. 



1g9& ^ 


1 


CONTENTS 


'a 


CHAPTER I. 

Oakhurst People page 7 

CHAPTER 11. 

Other Oakhurst People 19 

CHAPTER III. 

Peculiar People 35 

CHAPTER IV. 

Position Defined 53 

CHAPTER V. 

New Lessons 73 

CHAPTER VI 

Fulfilling the Law 96 

CHAPTER VIL 

Hazel’s Gift 119 

CHAPTER VIH. 

Mrs. Perley’s Way 136 

CHAPTER IX. 

Profit and Loss 158 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

What the World Says 172 

CHAPTER XL 

Faith 184 

CHAPTER XIL 

In Honor Preferring Others 205 

CHAPTER XIIL 

“Coming Out” 222 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Who Was to Blame 246 

CHAPTER XV 

“ Out ” - 263 

CHAPTER XVL 

A Mission Commenced 276 

CHAPTER XVIL 

A Summer Vacation 291 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Thanksgiving 308 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Question Answered 324 

CHAPTER XX. 

Other Questions 340 

CHAPTER XXL 

After Many Days 355 


CONTENTS. 


5 


W' 


CHAPTER XXIL 

Steps in the Right Direction 366 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

One October Afternoon 381 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Intervening Days 396 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Miss Curtis Makes Her Will 413 

CHAPTER XXVI 

After One Year 427 


I 


LUCY BROAD'S CHOICE 


CHAPTER I. 

OAKHURST PEOPLE. 

Early one bright June afternoon, Miss Cur- 
tis was seen hurrying down the principal street 
of Oakhurst. She was tall and thin, her eyes 
were dark, and her hair, threaded with silver, 
was combed straight back from her forehead 
and gathered into a hard coil under her straw 
bonnet. She wore a gingham dress which was 
stiffly starched, and rattled as she walked. One 
hand protected the skirt from the grass border- 
ing both sides of the walk, and the other held a 
black sun umbrella over her head. Near the 
end of the street she turned to the right, enter- 
ing a lane which was shaded by large maple- 
trees. At the foot of the lane and facing the 
street stood a small brown cottage. A gravelled 
walk leading to the front door was bordered on 
both sides by old-fashioned flowers : phlox, lark- 
spur and tiger - lilies, which gave promise of 
abundance of blossoms later in the season, while 


8 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


the air was redolent with the fragrance of pinks 
and cinnamon roses. 

Miss Curtis passed the front gate, and follow- 
ing a narrow path which terminated at a broad 
flat stone, entered the side door without the 
ceremony of knocking. 

Near the open window sat a small woman. 
She was engaged in sewing on white cloth, the 
folds of which partly covered a large grey cat, 
who was comfortably curled up in the lap of her 
mistress, seemingly watching with blinking eyes 
the shining needle as it went in and out of the 
long seam. The little room was plain but ex- 
ceedingly neat. No carpet covered the floor, 
which was scoured to the last degree of white- 
ness, presenting a striking contrast to the shin- 
ing stove. The pendulum of the tall old-fash- 
ioned clock in the corner swung monotonously 
back and forth, its tick-tock, tick-tock mingling 
with the drowsy sound of insect music which 
came from the meadow back of the house. 
Morning-glories, pink, blue and white, peeped in 
at the open window, seeming to nod a welcome 
to Miss Curtis as she dropped into a chintz- 
covered rocking-chair beside them, and sitting 
bolt upright with a hand upon each of its arms, 
exclaimed, “Sabrina Pray, did you know that 
Mr. Broad had gone to get married ?” 

“ No,” returned Miss Pray meditatively, “ but 


OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


9 


I do not know that I am surprised, as every one 
supposed that he would be married soon.” 

“ Well ! they did n’t suppose he ’d go off so 
sly, and not ask any of the Oakhurst folks. Why 
could n’t he have been married here, and invited 
all his friends ?” 

“Of course the wedding would be at her 
home, and I do not think that Mr. Broad cares 
for display.” 

“Well, that’s more than you can say for 
her,” and having given this somewhat ambigu- 
ous sentence. Miss Curtis waited for a reply, and 
receiving none continued : “Now I suppose 
you ’re so good that you do n’t care to know 
anything about the woman that Ernest Broad is 
going to bring here to live in Oakhurst, and 
whom we shall have to meet every day ; least- 
wise which a good many will.” 

“ I am sure I hope we shall like her.” 

“ I hope you will,” said Miss Curtis senten- 
tiously, while she closed her lips tightly with an 
expression which said, “ I could tell you vol- 
umes, but I wont.” 

However, knowing that the gentle woman 
before her would never ask for the information, 
after waiting a while she opened them again 
saying with great impressiveness, “ I have been 
visiting Mary Jane Gartside, who lives in Peter- 
sham, and she knows Betsy Vose, who knows 


10 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Althea Adams that Mr. Broad is probably mar- 
ried to by this time ; and Mary Jane said that 
Betsy said that Althea Adams had refused a 
great many offers because the ones who made 
them were n’t rich enough ; and that she was a 
very proud and a very stylish woman, and ac- 
cepted Mr. Broad because he was so good look- 
ing and rich, and stood so high in society.” 

Here Miss Curtis paused, perhaps because 
she had delivered all the knowledge she pos- 
sessed on the subject, possibly because she read 
disapproval in the sweet face of her friend. 
Miss Pray rocked gently back and forth as she 
sewed, but gave no sign of interest. Miss Cur- 
tis looked sharply at her over the top of her 
glasses, and then changed the tenor of her re- 
marks by saying with a sigh, “ Well, I pity the 
children, that ’s all.” 

Miss Pray looked up quickly, which Miss 
Curtis observing smiled, saying to herself, “ I 
thought that would fetch you,” and aloud, “ I '11 
risk Hazel ! she ’ll look out for herself, if she 
ai n’t but four and a half years old. She ’s a 
spunky little piece, and I always thought Lucy 
was too ; but then she ’s joined the church, and 
I suppose would think it wicked to show any 
temper, though I do n’t see as she ’s any differ- 
ent from what she was before.” 

Miss Pray was interested indeed now. “ I do 


OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


II 


not see why you should pity them,” she said, 
“ I am sure it will be very nice for them to have 
a step-mother — ” 

•'That depends,” interrupted Miss Curtis. 
" Maybe it will and maybe it wont. Step-mo- 
thers ai n’t always angels.” 

“ I hope no one will suggest such a thought 
to the children,” replied Miss Pray with more 
spirit than she was wont to show, “ and as for 
Lucy’s being different, you must remember that 
she has been a member of the church only since 
last January, and that she needs instructing how 
to walk in the new way. Many who have be6n 
professing Christians for years are far from 
perfect.” 

Miss Curtis released her hold from the arms 
of the chair, and leaning back rocked slowly 
while her face took on a softened look. “ I guess 
you’re about right,” she said, and her voice 
was tender. “ I ’ve never joined any church, 
and I do n’t suppose you ’d ever think I knew 
what it meant to be a Christian, but I do.” Miss 
Pray was all interest now. “ I ai n’t never told 
anybody before ; leastwise nobody here ; but 
when you said Lucy needed instructing, I 
agreed with you, and I hope somebody will 
instruct her and all new members. I might 
have been different if somebody had told me 
things.” 


12 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Miss Pray laid her work down in her lap, 
completely covering the cat, who jumped to the 
floor, arching her back and looking her aston- 
ishment at such unusual treatment. “ Wont you 
tell me about it ?” 

Miss Curtis hesitated, and then with a voice 
she vainly strove to make steady, said, “ My 
mother was a nice woman, very different from 
me ; she was an educated woman, and I a’ n’t as 
ignorant as you might think. I know I don’t 
always talk what you call grammar, but Ive 
read and I know things. But my mother was a 
good scholar, and I do n’t see why she married 
my father: however, she did, and then there 
was nothing to do but he must go kiting out 
West where there wa’n’t hardly anybody, and 
put my mother in a log cabin ; and there ’s where 
my brother and I was born. Mother taught us 
to read and write and cipher, and I read every- 
thing I could get hold of, which was n’t much, 
as the few books mother brought with her I 
soon knew all about, and then there was noth- 
ing but a stray paper occasionally. The nearest 
schoolhouse was eight miles away. Oh, I a’ n’t 
never had half a chance in anything. When I 
was twelve years old mother died, and then I 
had all the work to do, and I didn’t have any 
chance to read anything; but when it came 
night I would creep up the ladder to my loft 


OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


13 


and try and remember some Bible verses mo- 
ther had taught me, and perhaps before I had 
half said one I would be asleep, I was so tired.” 

Here Miss Pray moved her small rocker be- 
side the larger chair and laid her hand sympa- 
thizingly on the gloved one which rested on 
the chair arm. 

“ Things went on in this way for two or three 
years,” continued her companion, ‘'and then 
houses began to spring up near by, and land 
became more valuable, and my father sold part 
of his and was really worth a great deal of 
money. Talk of missionaries ! Did it ever oc- 
cur to you that Satan sends out a good many?” 

“ Why, no I” said Miss Pray, surprise in her 
tone. 

“Well, he does ! and he sent one where we 
lived, in the form of a man who said he would 
buy all the grain, and then the farmer would n’t 
have to send it so far, and then they would get 
more for it. And they agreed ; and then he 
built a brewery, and you know what followed. 
They could n’t have a schoolhouse ! Oh, no ! 
that would cost too much : but they had a rum- 
shop! Don’t look so shocked! I know it is 
more' proper to say a drinking-saloon, but I wont 
give any dignity nor politeness to the thing.” 
There was great bitterness in Miss Curtis’s tone 
and a flash in her dark eyes as she continued : 


14 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“You know the rest. There’s no need for me 
to tell you that father and Fred, my bright, 
beautiful brother, began to go to the rum-shop. 
I did all I could to make our little home attract- 
ive, but ’t was no use. They drank up all the 
money, and the land would have followed, but 
they both died — father with delirium tremens^ and 
Fred murdered in a drunken row, and they are 
both buried in drunkards’ graves way off in that 
Western place ! Oh, Fred ! my bright, lovely 
Fred—” 

Miss Pray was sobbing audibly, and Miss Cur- 
tis,, the tears running down her cheeks, rocked 
violently back and forth. 

“ I don’t know why I tell you this,” she re- 
sumed after a few moments. “ ’T is n’t what I 
set out to say. A little while after Satan's mis- 
sionary had established himself one of the other 
kind came and held meetings wherever he could 
get a chance, and he explained how to be a 
Christian, and I was one. This was before father 
and Fred died. I do n’t know how I ever could 
have gone through those years, but that way 
down deep in my heart was a feeling of peace — 
a feeling that somebody was helping me. And 
I was helped ; but when Fred was killed I had 
to struggle hard not to feel bitter. I did feel 
bitter towards them that made and sold the 
drink, and I made a solemn vow that I ’d do all 


OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


15 


in my power to stop the traffic. Well, after a 
while I felt that I could n’t stay there any longer, 
and so I thought Fd dispose of my property and 
leave those parts. And I offered my land for 
sale, and who do you suppose wanted to buy 
it?” 

I do not know, I am sure.” 

“ That brewer r 

Oh !” exclaimed Miss Pray, looking anxious. 

Did you sell it to him ?” 

“ I guess not ! I told him I ’d live and die 
there and will the land for a graveyard before 
he should have it. Was n’t he mad ! and so was 
most everybody there, and I thought I should 
be taken at my word and die there, but a deacon 
of the church in Amherst, the nearest city, heard 
of it, and he came to see me and made me an 
offer for it. He said he knew ’t wasn’t what it 
was worth, but he was only buying it to keep it 
from going into the hands of those who would 
use it for the purpose of iniquity. Well, to 
make a long story short, I let him have it : and 
we had it put in the deed good and strong that 
no part of the land should ever be used in any 
way to help along the rum-traffic. No building 
ever put on it should ever have any intoxicants 
sold in it or be manufactured on any part of 
the premises, and the grain raised there should 
never be sold to a brewer.” 


l6 LUCY broad’s choice. 

“ My !” exclaimed Miss Pray in surprise, 
drawing a long breath ; and then the tone 
changed to admiration as she said, “ How brave 
and good you were ! I never half appreciated 
you, but I shall in the future. How did you 
happen to come to Oakhurst to live ?” 

“ The deacon paid me enough to buy a little 
place, and enough to invest to enable me to live 
comfortably ; and my mother’s cousin, the only 
relative I ever knew outside of father, mother, 
and Fred, lived in Petersham, and as land was 
cheaper here I bought the little place where I 
live. However, she ’s dead now. 

Miss Curtis paused, sitting perfectly still, 
while great tears rolled down her cheeks. Dash- 
ing them aside after a little, she continued : I 
do n’t believe much in Christians as a rule. You 
look surprised, but let me tell you. You must 
remember that when I came to Oakhurst I had 
never seen but a few, and those from people 
round me whose ways were very simple, and I 
expected that when I came here to live profes- 
sors would be glad to see me because I was one 
of them ; but they wa’ n’t — and perhaps they 
were n’t all to blame,” she added meditatively ; 
and then with a sigh continued : “I know I 
a’ n’t very attractive, but a few called on me 
and the minister asked me to join the church, 
and gave me a book of rules which frightened 


OAKHURST PEOPLE. 17 

me so I decided not to. Let me see! what 
was I saying? Oh, I do believe that deacon 
out West is a Christian, if ever there was one, 
for eight years ago I received a letter from 
him, and he said that they had put a railroad 
right through my land, and he had sold the rest 
for a meeting-house and a school-house — just 
think of that ! — and he got a lot of money for 
it, and he sent* me a check for ten thousand 
dollars. They wont sell much rum in those 
buildings and she laughed a little triumph- 
ant laugh. 

“ How good God is 1” exclaimed Miss Pray. 

Miss Curtis looked at her steadily for a mo- 
ment, and then said, “ Well, there ’s been all this 
talk just because I wanted to tell you to teach 
Lucy Broad and not let her grow bitter when 
trials come. Willie will take care of himself ; 
he a’ n’t at home much now, being at college, 
and he ’s too good to let anything trouble him 
anyway. But there ! I wont gossip any more. 
I know you ’ll think no good will come of this ; 
so good-by and Miss Curtis walked out of the 
room with a firm step and an indescribable set 
of the head. 

Miss Pray sat a long time by the empty chair, 
very sure that some good would result from the 
conversation, and with a deep feeling of respect 
for the woman who could sacrifice so much of 


2 


1 8 LUCY broad’s choice. 

the riches of the world for a principle. “ What a 
power she would be in the church !” she thought, 
and she resolved to pray for her and in every 
possible way, without betraying the confidence 
reposed in her, to speak a good word for her 
friend. 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


19 


CHAPTER II. 

OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 

The afternoon sun shone brightly through 
the open windows of Mr. Broad’s pleasant dining- 
room. The large table in the centre of the 
floor was filled with flowers which a young girl 
was deftly and artistically arranging in dishes 
and vases. She was about fifteen years old, with 
chestnut-brown hair, and dark brown eyes which 
at this time were deep with some hidden feeling. 
Her dress was white and she wore a black sash 
and black ribbons. By her side stood a wee 
maiden whose eyes and hair matched her sister’s, 
but the sweet baby-face was full of mischief, and 
the dimples played hide-and-seek in her pink 
cheeks as she laughingly tossed the flowers 
about, thereby filling the room with the fra- 
grance of roses, heliotrope and mignonette. 

“What has you dot so many fowers for, 
Ucy?” she asked. 

“You know that papa is coming home this 
afternoon.” 

“ He ’s turned lots of times before and you 
never dot so many.” 

Lucy was silent, and the shadow deepened in 
the brown eyes as she quickly finished her work 


20 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


of arranging the many-hued blossoms ; and then 
disposing them in the different rooms, took her 
little sister by the hand, crossed the broad hall, 
and entering the library stood by the window 
looking down the winding carriage-way to the 
road beyond. 

“ Did Willie go for papa?” inquired Hazel. 

“ Yes ! that is, he went in the carriage. Ha- 
zel, our own dear mamma left us when you were 
a tiny baby ” — 

The little one nodded. “Yes, I know! she 
went to heaven ; and if I ’s a dood ’ittle dirl I ’ll 
go too sometime.” 

“ She understands that,” thought Lucy ; “ I 
wonder if the rest will be as plain to her ;” but 
before she could speak Hazel added : 

“An you an me is hansome and looks like 
papa, an Willie is dood and looks like mamma.” 

“Why, Hazel!” and Lucy laughed, “where 
did you learn that?” 

The dimples again played hide-and-seek in 
the sweet face, its owner was so pleased to see 
the shadow go from her sister’s brow, and she 
laughed gleefully as she said, “ Oh, folks say so.” 

“ I wonder what else folks have said. Did 
they tell you that papa is going to bring home a 
new mamma ?” 

“ No !” said Hazel with wide eyes. “ Has he 
been to heaven ?” 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 21 

“ Why, Hazel, what do you mean ? He has 
been to Petersham.” 

“Don’t all mammas ’turn from heaven, and 
don’t she know my weally mamma?” 

Just then the carriage came in sight and 
Lucy hastened to meet its occupants. The foot- 
man opened the door, and a tall, handsome gen- 
tleman stepped out. It needed but a glance to 
tell his relation to the two figures waiting in the 
hall. The resemblance was very striking, and 
“folks” were correct in saying that Lucy and 
Hazel looked like their father. 

Lucy watched anxiously as he turned and as- 
sisted a lady from the carriage. She was of me- 
dium height, faultlessly attired in a golden-brown 
dress, and Lucy noticed how perfectly it fitted, 
and that hat and gloves were of the same shade. 
Her motions were slow and graceful, her face 
fair and delicate, and her voice low and musical, 
but quite distinct as she turned and spoke to 
Will, who followed her up the broad stone steps 
Her greeting was affectionate, but Lucy felt that 
there was power in the hand that clasped hers, 
and the blue eyes looking steadily into her own 
seemed to assert their owner’s supremacy to all 
around her. 

“ Did you turn from heaven ?” said Hazel. 

Mr. Broad laughed as he lifted her in his 
arms, kissing her again and again. 


22 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ Did you ?” persisted the little one, turning 
her head in the direction of the new-comer. 

Mrs. Broad was seldom disconcerted, and she 
smiled sweetly as she replied, That remains to 
be seen,” and Lucy, thinking the answer most 
appropriate, preceded her to her room, leaving 
her there with a few pleasant words; and joining 
her brother on the veranda, she looked anxiously 
into his face. He smiled as she said, “ How do 
you like her ?” 

“I can hardly tell, as my acquaintance is 
limited to the drive from the station.” 

“ Non-committal as usual,” commented Lucy 
discontentedly, “but I tell you. Will Broad, I 
think we shall find that she did not come from 
heaven ! Now you need n’t look grave ; she is 
outwardly very sweet and gentle, but you will 
find she will rule.” 

If Lucy were correct in this conjecture there 
was no indication of it in the immediate days 
which followed. Mrs. Broad was evidently 
pleased with her new home, and well she might 
be. The house was large, standing in the midst 
of extensive lawns ; back of it was a flower- 
garden, and beyond that an orchard. She spent 
her time in driving and receiving calls, but Lucy 
felt that she was observant of all that transpired 
in the home life. “ Taking observations and 
getting her bearings,” she said to her brother. 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 23 

Oakhurst was evidently prepared to welcome 
the new comer cordially. “ Perfectly charm- 
ing,” remarked Mrs. French. '‘So ladylike,” 
said Mrs. Davis. “And so aristocratic,” added 
Mrs. Perkins. “So aristo-humbug,” snapped 
Miss Curtis ; but no one paid any attention to 
the last remark, and Mrs. Broad grew in popular 
favor ; and no picnic, reception, lawn-party, nor 
entertainment of any kind was considered com- 
plete unless graced by her presence. Lucy lis- 
tened to the enconiums bestowed upon her and 
could find no tangible reason for the vague, un- 
easy feeling with which she regarded her step- 
mother, so she entered with the rest into the 
joyous times of the sweet, sunny, summer days ; 
but they grew shorter, and brilliant September 
made its presence known with insect music, 
bright flowers and gay foliage. 

One Saturday afternoon as Lucy was trip- 
ping through the upper hall, her step-mother 
called to 'her. She stepped inside the door 
and remained standing. Mrs. Broad motioned 
her to a seat as she said, “I have a pleasant 
surprise for you.” 

Lucy still waited, expressing no curiosity ; 
something in the tone of the voice which ad- 
dressed her made her feel sure that while she 
might be surprised, she certainly would not be 
pleased. She could not tell the cause of the 


24 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


feeling, for Mrs. Broad’s voice was always sweet 
and even, very ladylike, like all her raovements. 
Often Lucy had wished that she would vary 
them. “ It is not natural,” she said complain- 
ingly to her brother, “it is company manners 
all the time.” 

“ Which is perfectly proper,” he had replied. 
“We are certainly entitled to as much respect 
as any one.” 

“ I wished to talk with you about your fall 
dresses.” Mrs. Broad was evidently disap- 
pointed that Lucy asked no questions; it did 
not make what she had to say any easier. 

“ I have plenty,” said Lucy, contumaciously. 

“ I presume you have ; but it will soon be too 
cool to wear white ; in fact, I think you are too 
old to wear it so constantly. It will do for 
Hazel for some time, but you must remember 
that you are a young lady now.” 

“ I have others.” Lucy would make the 
communication, whatever it was, no easier than 
she must. 

“ Yes, I know ; but I do not wish you to wear 
black.” Mrs. Broad had not intended to intro- 
duce the subject quite so abruptly, and was a 
little disturbed at the flash in Lucy’s brown 
eyes. She had worn black ever since the death 
of her mother, feeling when she put it on that 
it would be a long time before she left it off. 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


25 


She had dearly loved her mother, and felt that 
somehow the wearing of it was only showing 
respect to her memory, and her grief was still 
deep and heartfelt. She had thought that per- 
haps she might substitute lavender ribbons for 
black, but now her whole being rose in rebellion. 
What right had this stranger to interfere ? She 
would let her know that she would not be ruled 
in personal matters ! If she were too old to 
wear white she was too old to be dictated to as 
to what color she should wear. 

Mrs. Broad noticed the disturbed face and 
hastened to add, “You know that your mother 
has been dead nearly four years, and I never 
heard of any one of your age wearing mourning 
so long. It certainly is not fash— good taste.” 

“ Do you suppose that I care for the fashion ?” 
said Lucy, vehemently, completing the unfin- 
ished word, and ignoring the last clause. “ I 
suppose I can please myself in the matter of my 
own dress.” 

“My dear child,” said Mrs. Broad in her 
sweetest tone, “you know things are different 
now. Do you think that it is showing proper 
respect to me ?” 

Lucy crushed back the words which rose to 
her lips, “ That she could not show what she did 
not feel,” and said instead, “ If this is all you 
have to say, you will please excuse me.” 


26 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ It is not all. I am sorry that you feel so 
about it. I have had a new suit made for you !” 
and rising, Mrs. Broad took from the couch and 
held up for inspection a dress. It was a soft 
cashmere of delicate pearl-grey, trimmed with 
dainty lace. Lucy’s artistic eye could find no 
fault with it, and she could hardly tell why she 
felt so angry. She had prided herself on her 
good disposition, not realizing that she had sel- 
dom been tried. After her mother’s death a 
cousin of her father’s had been placed at the 
head of the household. She was an easy, good- 
natured person, who, finding that Lucy was dis- 
posed to do right, had left her pretty much to 
herself; and friends and neighbors, knowing 
how she had loved and missed her mother, had 
sympathized with and indulged her. Her dis- 
position was naturally fine, but she had a strong 
will, which, as she seldom was crossed, she had 
no occasion to assert. The previous January, 
during the week of prayer, she had united with 
the church, and was trying to live a consistent 
Christian life. It had been a great trial for her 
to see another in her mother’s place, and she 
had taken quite a little credit to herself that she 
had always treated her step-mother with respect. 
She had tried to overcome the feeling of dislike 
and distrust she felt towards her, not realizing 
that she had no real reason for such feelings. 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


27 


Nothing that her step-mother could have asked 
her to do would have more roused her. It was 
the first time that her mother’s name had been 
mentioned, and she felt that it was showing 
positive disrespect to her. She looked at the 
dress while the color left her cheeks. 

It will be very becoming,” continued Mrs. 
Broad. 

“ I do not believe it will to me,” replied Lucy, 
the very intensity of her feelings making her 
voice calm. “ You can give it to Rose or any of 
the servants. I will choose my own apparel.” 

For reply Mrs. Broad crossed the hall and 
laid the dress on Lucy’s bed. “ You will find 
your hat and gloves on the dressing-case. I 
shall expect you to wear them to church to- 
morrow.” 

Lucy, who had followed her step-mother, 
stood aside until she had left the room, then 
closed and locked the door. Never did she re- 
member having felt so angry: she was aston- 
ished at herself. “ I will not wear it !” she ex- 
claimed. The idea of her dictating to me as 
if I were a child !” Just then her eye caught 
the text on her Scripture roll : “ Follow after 
the things which make for peace.” “ I wish she 
would,” she thought, still communing with her- 
self and purposely misapplying the words. “ I 
was peaceful enough until she came here. It is 


28 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


time for papa to come home. I will meet him 
and tell him the whole story before she sees 
him,” and suiting action to word she ran impet- 
uously out of the room and down the stairs. 

Her brother was swinging in the hammock 
and reading. He looked up as she hurried down 
the steps and said, Where are you going in 
such haste, and what is the trouble ?” 

To meet papa ; and there is trouble 
enough.” 

Will left the hammock and came to her side. 
“ Wont I do as well as papa ?” 

“No! I don’t know! perhaps so. Come,” 
and she walked with rapid steps across the lawn, 
through the flower-garden into the orchard, and 
throwing herself upon a rustic seat under the 
spreading branches of an apple-tree, poured 
forth her grievances. 

Will’s handsome face looked grave. He did 
not speak for a few moments, but passed his 
hand caressingly over her bright brown curls. 
The gentle touch soothed her, and the tears 
which fell were not wholly caused by anger, al- 
though she exclaimed in concluding, “ Is it not 
horrid ?” 

“ Yes.” 

Something in her brother’s grave tone 
caused her to look at him questioningly. “ Do 
you blame me ?” she inquired. 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 29 

“ Do you think your words and manner were 
ladylike ?” 

Now it was Lucy’s pride that she had always 
been spoken of as very ladylike on all occasions, 
and this wise brother saw that she was in no 
condition just then to bear much more. He 
allowed her to think of his words for a few mo- 
ments, requiring no answer, and then continued, 
“ I am going back to college in a few days, and 
I would like you to make me one promise : 
Never go to papa with anything of this kind ; it 
will only be the means of sowing discord.” 
Lucy thought of the Scripture text and began 
to realize that it might possibly apply to herself. 
“ And remember that Mrs. Broad is really the 
head of the house. Why do you object to wear- 
ing colors ?” 

Still no reply. Lucy was evidently thinking 
deeply. 

“ What do you remember of our mother?” 

“ That she was just as sweet and good as she 
could be, and this woman is not one bit like her.” 

“ She is no relation to her.” 

Again Lucy looked up into her brother’s face, 
quickly catching his meaning. “ And I am,” 
she said. 

He smiled gravely. “Which do you think 
would please our mother best, for you to wear 
black or show a kind spirit?” 


30 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ Oh, Will ! it is not altogether the leaving 
off of mourning to which I object, but she has 
such an insinuating manner of making you feel 
that she will have her way. She reminds me of 
a cat, the paws are soft and velvety, but the 
claws are there all the same, and I cannot bear 
to yield to her. It seems to me that I cannot 
give way to her. If she had only approached 
me some other way !” 

“ I am sure her manners are always unex- 
ceptionable.” Lucy caught the twinkle of his 
eye although it was gone in a second. 

Now, Will Broad ! you know better ! that 
is, you know they do not come from the heart ; 
it is only surface politeness.” 

And your manners come from the heart, I 
presume. Oh, Lucy,” he continued, very grave- 
ly, “remember that 'The heart is deceitful 
above all things, and desperately wicked,’ and 
remember that you profess to be a follower of 
Him who said, ‘ Ye are my witnesses.’ Do you 
think you honored Him by your witness this 
afternoon? and do you remember what Paul 
says about dress ? ' Let it not be that outward 
adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of 
gold, or of putting on of apparel ; but let it be 
the hidden man of the heart .... even the orna- 
ment of a meek and quiet spirit.’ ” 

Lucy made no reply, and her brother said no 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 3 1 

more. Slowly they retraced their steps, and 
Lucy went to her room without a word. She 
was sorry that she had done wrong, and she did 
not wish to bring a reproach upon the cause she 
professed to love ; for Lucy was a Christian, a 
weak, erring one, but still her steps were set in 
the right direction. She read the words of her 
text again. “Follow,” she repeated, and she 
knew that the dress would be worn ; that out- 
wardly she should “ Follow after .... peace,” 
but her heart was full of rebellion when she rose 
the next morning. 

It had been her custom to complete her toi- 
lette for church before leaving her room on Sun- 
day mornings. It gave her more time for read- 
ing, she said. She knew the gray dress was not 
proper for the breakfast table, but, “ I do not 
care,” she said as she put it on. “ She wished 
me to wear it and I will.” She did not look in 
the mirror before she went down stairs, if she 
had she might have entered the breakfast- 
room in a more contented frame of mind, for 
the soft color and filmy lace were very becom- 
ing to her brilliant complexion and deep-brown 
eyes. 

The family were all seated when she took her 
place at the table, and the meal had commenced. 
“ Look at Ucy,” exclaimed Hazel, excitedly jump- 
ing up and down on the step of her high-chair. 


32 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

and thereby upsetting her mug of milk into her 
lap. 

“ That will do, Hazel,” said her step-mother, 
lifting her to the floor. “ Go and tell Rose to 
change your dress.” 

“ Oh, zat ’s all right,” replied the little one, 
endeavoring to dry the dress by sopping it with 
her napkin, and then attempting to climb back 
to her place. 

“ Hazel,” said Mrs. Broad, “go to Rose.” 

“ It ’s all dwy,” said Hazel, pausing with her 
back to the table and a hand on each arm of the 
chair and looking up sideways. 

Mrs. Broad rose, and taking her in her arms 
crossed the room and sat her in a chair with her 
face to the wall, with the injunction to remain 
there until she could obey. Now Hazel was not 
accustomed to be dealt with so summarily, and 
evidently thinking it a joke she slipped from 
the chair as soon as the restraining hands were 
withdrawn, and looked up, her sweet face 
wreathed in dimpling smiles. 

“ Come, Hazel ! I will go with you,” said 
Lucy, rising. 

“ Oh, no !” exclaimed Mrs. Broad, in her 
sweetest tone, “ it is time Hazel learned to 
mind,” and taking her in her arms once more, 
she walked with graceful steps to the closet, 
opened the door and shut her in. 


OTHER OAKHURST PEOPLE. 


33 

Mr, Broad looked troubled. “ She will eat all 
the sugar and preserves,” he said. 

“ Oh, no ! it is the china closet,” and Mrs. 
Broad complacently resumed her place at the 
table. 

Lucy still stood with flashing eyes and deep- 
ening color, and as the sound of baby fists 
pounding on the door, accompanied with a little 
voice, exclaiming, “ Lemme out, lemme out,” 
resounded through the room, Lucy hurriedly 
crossed the floor towards the hall. 

“You have had no breakfast,” said Mrs. 
Broad. “You had better come back.” 

For reply Lucy slammed the door. 

“ I think your daughter’s education as re- 
gards manners must have been neglected,” com- 
mented Mrs. Broad. “ I think it is time it was 
attended to.” 

Lucy passed a very unhappy forenoon. She 
was too agitated to pay much attention to the 
sermon. Were her father and brother going to 
“submit to the dominion of that woman,” she 
repeatedly asked herself, without stopping to re- 
flect that whether the means used were the best 
possible or not. Hazel certainly ought to obey. 

She took her place at the dinner table in a 
very perturbed state of mind. Hazel was assid- 
uously conveying preserves from the dish to her 
mouth. She paused with one chubby little hand 
3 


34 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


holding the spoon half way to its destination, 
and looking at her sister said, It was orful dark 
in zare, an I frashed roun and broked ze cups an 
saucers, an she,” nodding her head towards her 
step-mother, “ said it was a pritty spensive speri- 
ment.” 

Lucy looked up inquiringly. Her father’s 
mouth was grave but his eyes twinkled, and 
Will seemed to find it difficult not to laugh out- 
right. 

“ Never mind, Hazel,” said Mrs. Broad, “ the 
next experiment I try will not be so expensive.” 

“All wight,” said the little one, serenely 
scraping the last drop of syrup from her china 
dish. 

“ How can she forget and be so pleasant !” 
thought Lucy ; “ but then, she is only a child,” 
and then quickly came to her mind the words, 
“ Except ye be converted, and become as little 
children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of 
heaven,” and Lucy realized for the first time 
that she had a battle to fight with self before she 
overcame, and yet knew that there could be no 
real peace for her until she had gotten the vic- 
tory. 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 


35 


CHAPTER III. 

PECULIAR PEOPLE 

Lucy was truly sorry that she had been be- 
trayed into showing so much ill-feeling. She 
felt that she had lost in the encounter, and yet 
really wished to do right, and she resolved to 
cultivate the ornament of the meek spirit which 
she was surprised to find that she did not pos- 
sess. She had learned during the weeks that 
Mrs. Broad had been an inmate of the family 
that she was very fond of dress and of society, 
and quite sensitive to the opinion of others ; 
that is, to those whom for any reason she wished 
to please. 

Oakhurst was an aristocratic town, and Lucy 
had mingled with the best society without giv- 
ing it a thought, and was not at all surprised 
that her step-mother was soon an acknowledged 
leader in the fashionable circle. 

Lucy had been in the habit of choosing her 
own amusements, accepting or rejecting invita- 
tions as seemed best to her, and was therefore 
quite surprised one noon when her step-mother 
stopped her as she was leaving the dining-room 
after lunch with the question, “ What dress will 
you wear this evening T 


36 LUCY broad’s choice. 

“ Are you expecting company ?’ 

“Oh, no! but you have an engagement. 
Have you forgotten ?” 

Lucy assured her that she had. 

“ It is the evening of Kitty French’s party.” 

“ Oh 1” exclaimed Lucy in a tone of relief, 
and as though the subject were not only not 
worth discussing but was already disposed of. 
“ I am not going.” 

“ Why not ? It will be a very pleasant and 
quite a dressy affair,” and Mrs. Broad’s tone im- 
plied that her will was to be obeyed. Lucy 
made no reply, and she continued, “ Kitty has 
chosen her company with care. Only a select 
few will be there.” 

“ She has invited one who will disappoint her. 
I think she has shown very little judgment.” 

“ Why ?” 

“ It is a card party.” 

“ Well, what of that? It certainly is a very 
harmless amusement.” 

“ Perhaps you are not aware that I united 
with the church a few months ago.” 

“Oh, yes!” very sweetly. “I heard so.” 

The color deepened in Lucy’s cheeks and 
then mounted to her brow, for she could not 
mistake the intonation of voice, and she thought 
how little reason she had given any one to re- 
member the fact. 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 37 

“ But what has that to do with it ? I play- 
cards, and am not I a church-member ?’' 

“ I do not know,” replied Lucy, without in- 
tending to be rude. It was Mrs. Broad’s turn to 
color as she said, “ There is no harm in a simple 
game of cards. Lucy, you are very peculiar.” 

“Yes, she is,” said Hazel, who was standing 
on the fifth stair and attempting to climb upon 
the rail preparatory to sliding down, “ yes, she 
is, for my papa said so. He said ’fessors should- 
n’t pay tards ; and if he said so ’tis so.” 

Mrs. Broad turned and lifted the little one 
from her perch to the floor with the platitude, 
“ Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

Hazel shook off the restraining hand and 
chased her kitten across the hall and out of the 
open door, greatly to the relief of her step- 
mother, who had detected the involuntary gleam 
of triumph which shone in Lucy’s eyes. 

“ I would like you to wear your pink silk,” 
and Mrs. Broad turned away as though the mat- 
ter were unchangeably settled. 

Lucy stood a moment, then slowly mounted 
the stairs and entered her room, her heart full of 
anger, grief, and perplexity. She was angry 
because she was dictated to in the matter; 
grieved that the reproof and sarcasm in her 
step-mother’s “ I heard so ” were deserved, and 
perplexed as to the right course to pursue. 


38 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


She struggled with her anger with but indif- 
ferent success until her eye caught her text for 
that day, “The servant of the Lord must not 
strive, but be gentle unto all men,” and then 
every feeling gave place to amazement. 

“What must I do?” she thought in great 
perplexity. “ Must I go to the card-party this 
evening and join in the game, when papa and 
other Christians say it is wrong, and when I 
know that it is not coming out from the world 
and being separate from it, as I have promised 
to do?” But the words did not change. “ Must 
not strive.” “ Then I shall have to go,” she con- 
tinued, communing with herself, “ for she will 
not yield unless I do strive, and hard too. Oh, 
if I only had some one to advise me ! but I 
promised not to go to papa with such troubles. 
If Will were only here he would tell me what to 
do.” She sat quietly a few minutes more, and 
then her face brightened. “ I know,” she thought. 
“ I will go and talk with Miss Pray.” 

She walked slowly through the broad pleas- 
ant street, bowing absently to the few friends 
she met, wishing she might see no one whom 
she knew, and it was with a feeling of relief and 
rest that she entered the lane. The sunlight 
shone through the maples, brightening the foli- 
age and casting shadows of delicate tracery on 
the narrow walk. The little garden was gay 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 


39 


with marigolds, asters, and crysanthemums, but 
Lucy passed them without a thought, and stand- 
ing on the broad stone tapped lightly at the 
side door. 

Miss Pray gave her a cordial welcome, and 
noting the troubled look on her face made her 
comfortable in the chintz-covered chair, and 
quietly resumed her sewing. Lucy removed her 
hat, and throwing it carelessly on the floor be- 
side her, looked out of the window with eyes 
which saw nothing of the outward world. Pres- 
ently she began rocking slowly back and forth, 
and looking into the face of her hostess said, 
“Miss Pray, what does the Bible mean by ‘ a 
peculiar people ’ ?” 

“ Can you think of any one who is peculiar?” 

“Yes, my step-mother,” replied Lucy quickly. 

“ Do you think Paul referred to peculiarity 
like hers ?” Miss Pray asked the question hesi- 
itatingly, intuitively feeling that Lucy’s answer 
revealed the source of her trouble, and that 
great wisdom was required to give the correct 
solution to the problem. 

“ Lucy’s “ No ” was short and comprehen- 
sive. 

“ Can you think of any other person whom 
you look upon in the same light ?” 

“Yes,” and Lucy’s face assumed more of its 
wonted look ; “ Miss Curtis.” 


40 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ Do you think she fills the Bible description 
of peculiar people?” 

“ No and Lucy laughed — a low musical 
laugh. 

“I am not quite so sure,” returned Miss 
Pray, her thoughts reverting to the conversation 
on the sunny June afternoon when Miss Curtis 
expressed the wish that she would “instruct 
Lucy,” and immediately her thoughts took defi- 
nite form of one course of instruction she would 
give, but not just yet ; so she only added, “We 
will speak more of Miss Curtis by-and-by. In 
the meantime let me give you a little bit of my 
experience. I was converted when quite young, 
and really desired that my daily life should con- 
form to my profession.” 

Lucy, looking into the sweet,’ peaceful face, 
and recalling what that life had been ever since 
she could remember, began to have a dim reali- 
zation of the meaning of the word for which she 
had asked an explanation. She listened intently 
to the low, gentle voice as it continued : “ My 
life passed happily until I was twenty, and then 
my father died suddenly, and in a few days my 
mother followed, and I was left alone in the 
world, for I had no relative nearer than a great- 
aunt, who owned this little home. My father 
had an intimate friend and neighbor who was 
immensely wealthy, and who had always been 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 


41 


very kind to me, and who not only offered me a 
home but wished to adopt me, promising to 
make me his heir, and people said at once, ^ Of 
course you will accept.’ ” 

“ Why did you not ?” asked Lucy, as Miss 
Pray paused. 

“ People said it was because I was so very 
peculiar,” and she smiled a grave little smile. 
‘ Perhaps I was, but I have never regretted the 
decision, for both the gentleman and his wife 
were not only wholly given up to the world with 
its fashions and amusements, but both openly 
avowed a disbelief in the Bible. Could I have 
honored my Master by deliberately placing my- 
self under such influences ?” 

Lucy’s No ” was given hesitatingly. 

“ Now see,” continued Miss Pray brightly, 
“ how God keeps his word, that they who love 
him shall not want in any good thing. My great- 
aunt offered me a home with her, and when my 
father’s estate was settled I found I had enough 
to support me comfortably all my life, and when 
my aunt died she left me this place and what 
other property she possessed.” 

‘‘ Was it easy for you to give up the home of 
affluence ?” 

“No,” said Miss Pray regretfully. “Now 
what does Paul say ? I think it is like this ; 
‘Who gave himself for us, that he might re- 


42 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


deem us from all iniquity, and purify unto him- 
self a peculiar people, zealous of good works.’ 
Can you think of any such ?” 

“Yes,” said Lucy as she looked admiringly 
at the little woman before her. 

Miss Pray shook her head. “Well, then,” 
and Lucy laughed, “dear Mrs. Clarke, and,” 
after a pause, “ my father and Will. I do not 
know that I ever heard our pastor’s wife called 
peculiar, but papa has been called so because he 
will not have wine at any of his dinner or other 
parties. Are people peculiar who refuse to play 
cards because they think it is not consistent with 
their Christian profession ?” 

“ They are apt to be called so, but that does 
not harm them,” replied Miss Pray brightly, 
feeling that she was approaching the root of the 
trouble. 

“ Ought they to be forced to do so?” 

“ Hardly.” 

And then Lucy told of her step-mother’s 
command. Miss Prey sewed in silence, trying 
to decide what advice to give, feeling that she 
must say nothing to intensify the animosity 
which Lucy felt towards her step-mother, and 
which she made no attempt to conceal. 

Lucy waited a few moments and then said, 
“ The Bible says that the servant of the Lord 
must not strive ; then of course I must go this 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 


43 


evening, for it would only be after very hard 
striving that I could conquer if I succeeded at 
all.’’ 

Little Miss Pray was perplexed. Mrs. Broad 
was certainly wrong, but however correct Lucy’s 
ideas might be, her manner of showing them was 
in fault. 

“ What do you think your brother would have 
done under the same circumstances ?” Miss Pray 
felt that she must be cautious. 

“ He would probably have laughed and said, 
‘ My dear M ’ ” — Lucy paused. She could not 
speak that word applying it to the person in 
question. She commenced again. “ He would 
probably have made some polite speech about 
preferring to remain at home in good com- 
pany ?” 

“ Could n’t you have done the same ?” 

“No,” replied Lucy, bitterly, “ not if she were 
to be one of the company.” 

“ I think your brother’s course would have 
been the wiser.” Miss Pray’s tone was so gentle 
that Lucy could not be offended. 

“ What shall I do ?” she inquired, feeling that 
she was as far from a decision on the subject as 
when she came. 

“ I know of but one way,” replied Miss Pray. 
“We are promised, ‘that if two of you shall 
agree on earth as touching anything that they 


44 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father 
which is in heaven ! We will agree to pray about 
it, trusting that He, without whose notice not a 
sparrow falls to the ground, will show you the 
way out of your present trouble. And He will, 
if your motive is to please him. I do not dare 
advise you to do anything contrary to the express 
command of your mother.” 

“Don’t!” and Lucy put up her hand as 
though to ward off a blow. “ I never call her 
by that name.” 

“ It would be better if you did,” said Miss 
Pray, cautiously. “ And now,” she continued, 
“ I think we understand the meaning of the 
Bible expression, ‘peculiar,’ and I would like 
you to put it in practise in one way at least. We 
were speaking of Miss Curtis a few moments 
ago. Did you ever ask yourself what she had 
to make her life pleasant?” 

“ Why, no ! I never thought of her but as 
an odd, disagreeable woman.” 

“ I believe there is not a woman in Oakhurst 
who has more true nobility of character ; but I 
do not wonder that she is not appreciated, as so 
few really know her or try in any way to make 
her life pleasant. Can you be peculiar enough 
to brighten one day for her by taking her to 
drive ?” 

Now Lucy Broad was a very proud girl, but 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 


45 


it was not pride of wealth or position, these she 
accepted as her birthright ; neither was it pride 
in the opinion of others, for that she cared very 
little if she were sure she was right. It was 
more a pride which, if expressed, would be, 
“ Can’t I do as I like without being hampered 
by the considerations of society ?” She smiled 
as she imagined the looks of astonishment with 
which her fashionable friends would greet, her 
if she should comply with Miss Fray’s request. 
But that thought did not trouble her. Her hes- 
itancy arose from the fact that she was natural- 
ly of a refined aud fastidious nature, and shrank 
from anything that was common or coarse, and 
Miss Curtis’ crude manners and rude speech 
offended her cultured taste. 

Did you ever think what your life would 
be if you were shut up to yourself most of the 
time ? If you had but few friends ? If, as Mrs. 
Whitney expresses it, ‘ There were plenty of 
good times, but you were not in them.’ ” 

“ No,” exclaimed Lucy rising, her brown eyes 
growing dark with feeling. “ No ! I have been 
a thoughtless selfish girl all my nearly sixteen 
years. I will take Miss Curtis to drive this 
very afternoon if she will go with me. This 
afternoon at four and round the lake,” and in 
spite of herself she smiled. 

Miss Pray met the smile with an answering 


46 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


one, but of different expression and meaning as 
she replied, “ The fashionable hour and the 
fashionable drive ; do not do it as penance.” 

The only reply was a haughty pose of the 
head, involuntary on Lucy’s part and perfectly 
indescribable, but which her friends well knew 
and which if put into words at this time would 
have said, “ I have no penance to perform. I 
have neglected duty through inadvertence, and 
now I see it I will take Miss Curtis where I 
please.” 

Miss Pray kissed her tenderly, with a silent 
prayer that this proud, wilful, yet noble nature 
might be directed aright. 

When Lucy reached home she went directly 
to her room, and kneeling by her bedside en- 
deavored to collect her thoughts. She was 
truly sorry for all that she had said or done that 
was unladylike, but that feeling was soon ab- 
sorbed in the greater one of sorrow for all that 
had been unchristlike ; and she prayed earnestly 
for forgiveness and guidance not only that she 
might do just right in the matter which was 
troubling her, but in all others, and it was with 
a lighter heart than she had known for weeks 
that she rose and prepared for her drive. 

Very pretty and stylish she looked as she 
took her seat in the phaeton. Her jaunty little 
hat with its drooping plumes was extremely be- 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 


47 


coming. “ Take car, dar, Miss Broad,” said Sam, 
the colored coachman, as he handed her the 
reins, “ take car, Jessie feels ’markably good.” 

“ So do I,” replied Lucy, as she drove rapidly 
down the road. 

Miss Curtis lived in a two-story white house 
which stood back from the street. On the left 
was an old-fashioned well-sweep to which led a 
well-worn path through the grass. Back of the 
house was a vegetable garden, and on both sides 
of the front door were ample beds filled with 
gay flowers. Miss Curtis stood in the yard with 
her back to the road, gathering seeds, and did 
not notice Lucy as she stepped from the phaeton 
and fastened her pony to the white fence. She 
wore a dark calico dress, and her head was covered 
with a large green and white checked sun-bonnet. 

Good afternoon,” said Lucy, as she walked 
up the gravelled path. 

Miss Curtis turned slowly round and gazed 
at her over the top of her glasses. 

“ Good afternoon,” repeated Lucy, smiling 
pleasantly at the stiff figure which stood bolt 
upright with her arms close to her sides. 

“ Noon,” came from the depths of the sun- 
bonnet. 

“ I came to see if you would not like a drive 
this delightful sunny day,” and Lucy approached 
a step or two nearer. 


48 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Miss Curtis laid her paper of seeds on the 
doorstep and looked at Lucy once more. “ What- 
ever made you come for me ?” she inquired. 

What did? Duty at first, Lucy admitted to 
herself. But looking at the thin stern face, a 
great feeling of pity filled her heart and she said, 
“ I ask you because I would like to have you go,” 
and Miss Curtis looking into the earnest face and 
truthful eyes could not doubt the words, and 
simply saying, “ Come in,” led the way to her 
parlor and opened the door for her guest to enter 
while she passed up the narrow crooked stairs. 

Lucy thus left alone looked around her. The 
autumn breeze rattled the paper curtains which 
partially shaded the four windows. The floor 
was covered with a woollen carpet, the predom- 
inating colors of which were red and brown ; 
six straight backed chairs with slippery hair- 
cloth seats stood stiffly around the room close 
to the wall : on one side of the room was a 
sofa which matched the chairs, and in one corner 
was a “what-not,” whose shelves were covered 
with shells and deserted bird’s nests. An old 
fashioned, polished table occupied the centre of 
the floor, and Lucy was surprised to see that 
several of the latest magazines were lying upon 
it. She had been in the room with her mother 
many times before, but the dreariness of it never 
impressed her as it did now. And as she recalled 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 49 

the many kind acts of that dear mother she re- 
solved to follow more closely in her footsteps. 

Miss Curtis soon returned clad in black al- 
paca-dress, and wearing her quaint straw-bonnet. 
Lucy assisted her into the phaeton, took her 
place beside her, tucked the soft robe around 
them and gathered up the reins. 

‘‘Where be you going? to the woods?” in- 
quired Miss Curtis grimly, yet with a twinkle in 
her eyes. 

“ No,” replied Lucy, “ that is, unless you pre- 
fer to. I thought of driving round the lake.” 

Miss Curtis turned and looked intently into 
her companion’s face for a moment. Its ex- 
pression evidently satisfied her, for she repressed 
the words which rose to her lips, “ Be you going 
to take me there for folks to make fun of me ?” 
and said instead, “I’d like to go there and see 
the handsome horses. I ’m very fond of them.” 
Lucy felt that there was one subject upon which 
they were in sympathy, and she enjoyed her 
companion’s evident admiration of the fine 
teams they soon met. She returned the saluta- 
tions of her fashionable friends, noting with a 
little feeling of resentment the curious looks 
with which many of them regarded the other 
occupant of the phaeton. “They are as well 
acquainted with her as I am,” she thought, “ and 
they shall treat her well for my sake if for no 


50 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


other reason.” How she would bring about 
this state of affairs she did not exactly know, 
but the determination was strong. 

Miss Curtis was very quiet, making no re- 
marks on the occupants of the handsome carri- 
ages, but admiring the fine horses and evidently 
enjoying herself. “Thank you,” she said when 
Lucy left her at her own gate, “ I don’t know 
when I have had such a good time, and I do n’t 
know what made you do it unless it ’s because 
you’ve joined the church and are being in- 
structed.” Which words Lucy pondered. 

A little feeling of trouble returned as she 
entered her own home, but it quickly disappeared 
as her stepmother met her at the door saying, 
“ I am glad that you have returned in time for 
dinner, as I expect company, after all. The 
Silsbees and Saltonstalls sent word that they 
would spend the evening with me ; and as they 
are very fond of music I would like you to re- 
main at home and help me entertain them.” 

Lucy ran up the stairs with a light step and 
a lighter heart. Was not this a direct answer 
to prayer ?” Should she not know in the future 
jUSt what to do? She took her place at the 
dinner-table with a face full of joy and peace, 
and was met with the question, “ Lucy, who 
was that peculiar looking woman you took to 
drive with you this afternoon ?” 


PECULIAR PEOPLE. 


51 


And now was Lucy thoroughly surprised. 
She knew that her step-mother had met Miss 
Curtis several times, and she despised the affec- 
tation of ignorance which would ignore the 
fact. Before she could reply, Hazel exclaimed, 
“ Why, do n’t you know her ? she ’s real nice ; 
she gibbed me some bumble bee sauce on my 
bread and butter.” 

A laugh went round the table, but Hazel, 
nothing daunted, continued, “ She did, an’ it was 
weal dood.” 

“When were you there?” questioned Mrs. 
Broad. 

“ Oh, the day I wunned away ; and Ucy 
said she was weal frightened ; and I never wun 
away no more, ’cause I think its drefful to be 
frightened like I was in ze dark. But it was 
weal dood though,” and Hazel sighed and 
smacked her lips at the memory of the dainty 
morsel. 

“ Do not go there again ; and Lucy, I do not 
wish you to take her to drive again,” said Mrs. 
Broad, returning to the attack. 

Lucy’s only reply was the haughty set of her 
head which her father noticing and feeling that 
he could not allow his children to be influenced 
in the wrong direction in the matter said very 
quietly, “ I think, my dear, if it affords both 
Lucy and Miss Curtis pleasure we will not ob- 


52 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

ject,” and Lucy knew that the question was 
settled both for herself and her little sister, and 
her heart was full of gratitude and praise, for 
she had learned that day a lesson of trust which 
she never forgot, and which influenced her whole 
life. 


POSITION DEFINED. 


53 


CHAPTER IV 

POSITION DEFINED. 

“ Lucy,” said Mrs. Broad as she followed her 
from the breakfast-room the next morning, 
“don’t your cousins, the Eliots, usually spend 
the summer vacation with you ?” 

“ Yes ; but they passed this season in Europe 
and only returned last week.” 

“ I think it very strange that they did not 
invite you to go with them.” 

“They did,” and Lucy wondered what “sur- 
prise ” her step-mother was trying to approach. 

“ Why did you not go ?” 

“ I did not wish to leave Hazel.” 

Mrs. Broad ignored the reason : she evidently 
did not wish to speak of Hazel then. “ How old 
are your cousins? I have never met them.” 

“ Amy is six months older than I, and Harry 
is nineteen.” 

“ Ai n’t they very nice ?” 

Lucy looked at her step-mother feeling that 
she would answer cautiously. She always felt 
when approached in this way that there was 
something disagreeable in store for her, or as 
she expressed it to her brother, she was walking 


54 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


into a trap ; so she answered cautiously, “ Why, 
yes,” recalling the time when this same Harry 
had peppered her custard and salted her pre- 
serves, had steered her sled into a snowbank in 
the winter, and sprinkled her with the garden- 
hose in summer. 

“Will they come here now, do you think?” 
Mrs. Broad was evidently approaching the sub- 
ject which interested her. 

“ Oh, no ! Amy’s school commences next 
Monday.” 

“ And to-day is Tuesday. I have heard that 
Madam Templeton’s school is a very fashionable 
one and then seeing the set of Lucy’s head 
and curl of her lip she hastened to add, “ and 
that they have the very best teachers for the 
languages, music, and art — in fact for all the 
branches.” 

Lucy bowed her acquiescence. 

“ Would n’t you like to go there ?” and before 
Lucy could reply she continued, “ I have talked 
with your father about it, and he agrees with me 
that it would be the best thing for you. I under- 
stand that some of the first families of Leices- 
ter send their daughters there, and as Amy is 
acquainted she could introduce you to them.” 

Again the only reply for a moment was a 
haughty pose of the brown head, and then its 
owner said, “ I will think of it.” 


POSITION DEFINED. 55 

“You must decide to day, for there will be a 
great deal to do to get you ready.” 

Lucy passed on to the veranda and seated 
herself in the hammock. To attend Madam 
Templeton’s school in Middletown had been her 
ambition ever since her mother died. In fact 
it had been her mother’s wish and intention 
that she should go there ; but the death of that 
dear mother had caused a change in her plans. 
She had felt that she could not leave her little 
sister. Was it well to leave her now? Lucy’s 
lip curled again as she recalled her step-mother’s 
reasons for wishing her to go. “ Can’t she un- 
derstand,” she said to herself, “can’t she under- 
stand that I do not need Amy Eliot nor any one 
else to assure my position in society?” No, 
Lucy cared nothing for that, for she felt that 
she already possessed it, but she did long for 
the advantages which a year or two spent there 
under the instruction of able teachers would 
bring to her. Then, too, she was fond of Amy 
and knew that she should enjoy the companion- 
ship of new acquaintances which boarding-school 
life would bring to her. The only thing which 
caused her to hesitate was her little sister. Hazel 
would miss her, and she did not like to leave her 
with her step-mother. Why she felt so she 
could hardly tell. Her dislike to Mrs. Broad as 
she looked at it now, seemed to possess no tangi- 


56 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


ble reason. Hazel certainly ought to learn to 
obey, and her step-mother had never treated her 
unkindly. Looking back over the months since 
the change had come to the household, Lucy 
was forced to admit that the only cause she had 
for her feelings of dislike was that Mrs. Broad 
was her father’s wife, and consequently her step- 
mother, and had interfered with her own plans 
and wishes ; and then the feeling returned with 
double intensity. “ She had no right to dictate 
to me,” she thought, ‘‘ and she is shallow, and 
her only care seems to be for society. How could 
papa, with his good sense, ever fancy her ? I feel 
as though I would like to go to school if only to 
be rid of her companionship. What right had 
she to speak to papa about my affairs. I am 
capable of doing that myself.” 

It was with these bitter feelings still rankling 
in her heart that she sought her father in the 
library after dinner, and told him of the con- 
versation of the morning, and of her own wishes 
and the one objection. 

Hazel will be five years old in a few days. 
Can’t you trust her to the care of her mother ?” 
asked Mr. Broad. 

Lucy recoiled as from a blow, and her father 
looking into the face of his proud-spirited, but 
tender-hearted daughter added, “ I think that 
when your mother realizes that there is no need 




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LUCY RECOILED AS FROM A BLOW/’ 


Page 56 














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POSITION DEFINED. 


57 


for her to struggle to attain a desirable place 
in society, when she becomes more accustomed 
to her surroundings, she will fill your ideal 
better.” 

Lucy never knew what it cost her father to 
utter these words, and never knew how disap- 
pointed he was that there was occasion to speak 
them ; that woman who had won his affections 
by her gentle, lady-like ways, fell far short of his 
ideal of what a true woman should be. These 
were the only words that any ever heard Ernest 
Broad utter that would lead them to infer that 
there was anything lacking in the woman he 
had chosen for a life-long companion. 

My dear daughter,” he continued, “ won’t 
you try and accustom yourself to the new order 
of things? I do not ask you to change your 
individual life or customs, but just do all you 
can to make our home pleasant.” 

Tears filled Lucy’s eyes. Her father asked 
nothing for his own sake as a member of the 
home, but he appealed indirectly to her pride 
that things should be right. 

Seeing her softened mood, he rose, and put- 
ting his arm around her said, In the matter of 
going to Middletown I wish you to consult your 
own happiness. We shall all miss you, but I 
think the change will be good for you, and you 
would have many educational advantages which 


58 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


you could not possess nearer home, and thus 
you would be of more real assistance to your 
little sister in the future.” 

Later in the afternoon Lucy sought her step- 
mother and told her that she had decided to go 
the following Monday. 

“ That is wise,” she replied. “ I have been 
thinking of your wardrobe, and find - that you 
will need a travelling-dress. How fortunate 
that all your dresses are new and that you have 
so many. Supposing that you drive to Peter- 
sham this afternoon and select the material.” 

Lucy complied and reported on her return 
that the dress was purchased and in the dress- 
maker’s hands. 

After breakfast the next morning Mrs. Broad 
said, “ If you will have Jerry bring down your 
trunk and will get your things together, I will 
help you pack.” 

The order was given and Jerry soon made 
his appearance. 

“ Lem’me go with you an’ help,” said Hazel, 
running before him. 

Mrs. Broad and Lucy standing in the upper 
hall soon heard Jerry’s voice above the roll of 
castors, as the trunk was being pushed towards 
the stairs : “ Take car, dar. Miss Hazel ! take car 
or de trunk ’1 knock you ober.” 

Hazel changed her position and stood on the 


POSITION DEFINED. 59 

Upper stair directly in front of the huge ap- 
proaching box. 

“ Take car, dar, Miss Hazel,” shouted Jerry 
again. “ Clar de way ! I clar for it ! I dun’no 
no way to get you both down safely but to put 
you in de trunk an’ shut de cover.” 

There was a little shriek, a scampering of 
baby feet, and Hazel ran to Lucy’s side, and 
drawing her dress round her hid all but a pair 
of bright brown eyes and the top of a curly 
head. She stood there until the trunk was 
safely landed in Lucy’s room, and then all fear 
vanishing, followed Jerry down stairs. 

Lucy spent no idle moments, and Mrs. Broad 
looked on while she filled chairs, table, bed and 
lounge, with dresses, boxes, ribbons, laces, hand- 
kerchiefs, and books. When she had covered 
almost every available space with packages or 
garments, converting the usual orderly room 
into a scene of confusion, Mrs. Broad laughed, 
a little musical laugh. 

“ Do you think that trunk is made of gutta- 
percha,” she inquired ? or do you expect me 
to do impossible things by putting the contents 
of two closets and six drawers into its yawning 
depths ?” 

“ It is what I usually do,” replied Lucy, join- 
ing the laugh, though a little soberly. “ I gener- 
ally put five articles into three spaces.” 


6o 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Just then the door opened and Hazel skipped 
in, brushing a pile of handkerchiefs from one 
chair, some lace and ribbons from another and 
upsetting a work-box, thereby causing pins, nee- 
dles, thimble, spools of cotton and silk to roll in 
every direction, the latter indiscriminately wind- 
ing round the legs of chairs, tables and Hazel’s 
feet. 

I think it would be well to say, ‘ by your 
leave,’ ” said her step-mother, giving a refractory 
thread a pull ; and as Hazel, evidently thinking 
it was fine sport, attempted to run, dodging in 
and out around the furniture, she opened the 
door, and lifting the little one, set her in the hall 
on the other side of the threshold, with the re- 
mark, If you have any message to deliver we 
will hear you.” 

Roguish little Hazel would have felt sorry 
for the mischief of which she had inadvertently 
been the cause had she been less summarily dealt, 
with. As it was she stood a moment in wide- 
eyed astonishment and then commenced, “ The 
dwess-maker — o-o-o,” as Mrs. Broad in turning 
round unexpectedly sent Lucy’s writing desk to 
keep company with the work-box. 

Lucy turned away to hide a smile, and Hazel 
exclaimed, “ Now you ’turn right out here ! Ucy, 
put her out.” 

Lucy declined, and Hazel commenced once 


POSITION DEFINED. 6l 

more : “ The dwess-maker is down stairs and 
wants to see you and having finally made 
known her errand she grasped the bannisters, 
attempting to go down two stairs at a time, and 
succeeded in missing the last five or six, and 
a dismal wail announced that she had finally 
reached the hard floor, where Lucy picked her 
up, and finding her not hurt went to the sewing- 
room. 

Monday morning found the trunk packed 
and locked, the latter after a vigorous effort on 
the part of Jerry, who handed the key to Lucy 
with the remark, “ Jolly, Miss Broad, I dun ’no 
who you ’ll get to lock it when you dun come 
back.” 

Middletown was about one hundred miles 
from Oakhurst, and the afternoon was waning 
when Lucy reached her destination. Her cousin 
Amy Eliot met her at the door. In form and 
feature she was quite like Lucy, but the ex- 
pression of her face was entirely different, lack- 
ing the dignified repose which was a character- 
istic of her cousin’s. “ I am so glad you have 
come,” she exclaimed, kissing her ; “ but is it 
not too bad that we can’t room together? Ma- 
dam is very particular that we do not change 
room or room-mates, says it makes us unstable. 
However, I will not keep you here any longer ; 
come, let me introduce you ;” and she led the 


62 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


way to the reception-room, where Lucy received 
a kind greeting from a tall, stately-looking wo- 
man. She had only time for a few words, as Mrs. 
Templeton’s attention was constantly claimed by 
the greetings of the young ladies who were com- 
ing from all points of the compass. 

“ I will show you to your room,” said Amy. 
“Your chum is already there; I hope you will 
like her,” and Lucy knew by the intonation of 
voice that her cousin felt some doubt about it. 
“ She is a stranger, like yourself, so I cannot 
introduce you. But here you are ; number seven. 
I will call for you in time for tea.” 

Lucy opened the door and entered a large sun- 
ny room with three windows, one of which opened 
on a veranda. The room was tastefully furnished 
with a duplicate of each article of furniture. 
Standing before one of the bureaus was a slight 
girl of medium height. She turned as Lucy 
entered, and all prejudice which Amy’s words 
might have occasioned vanished. Her face was 
very fair and delicate ; her cheeks just tinged 
with color, and the deep blue eyes looked into 
the brown ones with a steady, inquiring half 
timid glance, while the sweet lips trembled a 
little as with some unspoken thought. Lucy 
stepped forward and took her hand, saying, “ So 
we are to be companions for an indefinite time. 
My name is Lucy Broad.” 


POSITION DEFINED. 63 

And mine is Dorothy Colburn, and I am 
sure we shall be friends.” 

Lucy smiled at the little note of inquiry 
vShown in her voice, and thought that Dorothy 
would win her way by her very gentleness and 
timidity. She learned, while laying aside her 
wrap and unpacking her trunk, that Mr. Colburn 
was a minister, settled over a church in the 
country town of North wood ; that Dorothy had a 
brother Herman, who was twenty years old, and 
so good ; and a younger brother and sister. That 
she had never been from home before, and was 
afraid she would be homesick ; and she meant 
to study and improve her time, every moment 
of it, it was so kind of her father to allow her 
to come to Middletown. 

Lucy looked at the neat but plain gray travel- 
ling attire, t]ie small trunk and two or three 
dresses which Dorothy had taken from it and 
hung in the closet, and read the whole story — 
of a country minister, living on a small salary 
and practising self - denial that his daughter 
might have all the advantages of a good edu- 
cation ; and Lucy knew that many of the class 
of girls who composed the pupils of Madam 
Templeton’s very fashionable school would look 
with contempt upon this dainty little maiden, 
with the plain dress and simple unsophistocated 
ways, and wondered if she would be brave enough 


64 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


to ignore it, and determined that they should 
receive her kindly. 

After tea the girls assembled in the school- 
room to become acquainted, they said ; but Lucy’s 
lip curled as she noted the looks of supercilious 
curiosity with which the new comers were re- 
garded by some of the old members. 

“ Do you see that young lady by the desk ?” 
inquired Amy. Lucy turned and saw a tall, 
handsome girl, with large gray eyes and pale 
complexion. Her dress was plain, but Lucy 
noted the extreme softness and richness of 
the fabric and the graceful folds in which it 
hung. 

“ That is Judge Bradleigh’s daughter, Mar- 
garet,” continued Amy, “‘lady Margaret,’ we 
call her ; she is the acknowledged leader of the 
school ; and that little midget ne^^t to her is her 
room-mate; did you ever see a greater con- 
trast ?” 

Lucy smiled as she noticed the hazel eyes 
which seemed brimming over with fun. Their 
owner was small, with brilliant complexion and 
dimpled face. Her movements were graceful 
with the unconscious ease and abandon of a child, 
and her motions light and airy. 

“ Her name is Faith Fairbanks Amy was 
gratified that her cousin seemed so interested, 
“ but we usually call her Fay, the sobriquet fits 


POSITION DEFINED. 


65 

her so well. She seems to have two natures, for 
she is full of fun and mischief, and yet as gentle 
and loving as a baby. There comes my room- 
mate, Sarah Bennett,” and Lucy saw a hand- 
some, dark-eyed, richly dressed girl enter the 
room and go directly to Margaret. “ Those 
other two girls next to Fay are Nellie Wood and 
Susie Warner, and that is enough for you to try 
and remember to-night. They are my special 
friends, and constitute our coterie.” 

The evening passed pleasantly. Lucy was 
cordially received by all to whom she was in- 
troduced, the girls instinctively according her 
a place with Margaret, and wondering if they 
would be rivals. Lucy all unconscious of the 
exalted position she occupied in the minds of 
her school-mates, acknowledged some greetings 
with cordiality and others with easy noncha- 
lance, more anxious for Dorothy’s standing than 
for her own, which she accepted as a matter of 
course. The next few days were busy ones, 
the new pupils passing examinations and receiv- 
ing their class rank, and all were glad that Satur- 
day was a holiday. Lucy spent the day in becom- 
ing acquainted with Middetown, and returned to 
her room just before tea, with rosy cheeks and 
sparkling eyes, looking the personification of 
health. 

Dorothy handed her a dainty little note as 
5 


66 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


she entered, and stood watching her somewhat 
anxiously as she perused it. 

“ What do you suppose it means ?” she in- 
quired, as Lucy returned it to the envelope 
without comment. “ I had one just like it.” 

“ Why, just what it says ; we are invited to 
a reception to be held in number eleven this 
evening ; the Misses Wood and Warner receiv- 
ing.” 

“ Yes !” doubtfully, “ but did you notice that 
the hour was quarter past nine, the time when 
lights are supposed to be extinguished, and that 
we are to go by way of the veranda instead of 
the hall, and tap at the window for admittance ?” 

“ Yes, I know,” said Lucy, her countenance 
betraying nothing. “As we are new comers 
and not supposed to be wholly conversant with 
the ways of this hall of erudition, I think we 
had better accept the invitation.” 

Accordingly quarter past nine found two 
figures moving silently along the veranda. They 
paused before the corner room, and Lucy tapped 
lightly at the window, which was immediately 
opened and they stepped inside. 

Dorothy paused in wide-eyed astonishment, 
but if Lucy felt surprise she did not show it, 
but looked around her with an imperturbable 
countenance. The room was brilliantly lighted, 
no ray being permitted to escape through the 


POSITION DEFINED. 


67 

windoWw«?, before which not only were the cur- 
tains drawn, but heavy shawls were hung. Two 
candelabra occupied the shelf, and between them 
was an alabaster vase filled with fragrant flowers. 
Small tables, which had evidently been brought 
from adjacent apartments, filled the centre of 
the room, and were brilliant with delicate china, 
cut glass and silver. Fruit dishes of unique pat- 
terns were filled with golden oranges, and purple 
and white grapes. Silver baskets held rich cake 
and confections, and pyramids of ice cream, 
frozen fruit and various ices occupied conspicu- 
ous places. The girls were seated at the differ- 
ent tables upon beds, trunks, and chairs. 

Fay rose as Lucy and Dorothy entered, and 
extending her hands towards them, said, “ Wel- 
come, young ladies ! we bid you a hearty wel- 
come to — ” 

“ There, Fay Fairbanks, do stop your non- 
sense,” exclaimed Nellie Wood. 

“ My dear friends,” continued Fay, paying 
no attention to the interruption, and waving 
her little jewelled hands once more, “ This sump- 
tuous ban — ” 

“ Fay Fairbanks, can’t you be sensible ? the 
cream will melt while you are trying to be ridic- 
ulous.” 

“ Oh, my !” said Fay, changing her tone, “ I 
suppose Nellie’s idea of sense is something like 


68 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


this : ‘ Say, girls, won’t you come and occupy 
these two chairs ? They are the easiest ones ex- 
cepting Margaret’s, and are reserved for you 
because you are strangers ; after this you will 
have to take your chance with the rest of us, 
on bed or trunk.” 

“ Faith Fairbanks, stop !” exclaimed Susie 
Warner, pulling her down to her place on one 
of the latter articles. “ Now, young ladies, will 
you please take your places. The only condi- 
tion we impose is that you will be quiet, that we 
many not betray ourselves to the madam,” 

Lucy walked with quick even steps to the 
place assigned her, followed more slowly by 
Dorothy, who remained standing with her hand 
resting on the back of her chair. 

“ Please be seated. Miss Colburn,” said Fay. 
“Already I see a rivulet commencing on the 
top of Mont Blanc, and I fear dire disaster un- 
less it is stopped at once by being transferred to 
our plates. Madam would not think it any more 
wicked to sit than to stand.” 

“ Do you mean that Mrs. Templeton does 
not know of this?” inquired Dorothy, trying to 
prevent the tremble in her voice and to meet 
bravely the questioning looks of seven pair of 
eyes. 

“ My dear unsophistocated,” said Sarah Ben- 
nett, “ do you suppose we should take all this 


POSITION DEFINED. 69 

pains to darken the windows and suppress our 
mirth if Madam had invited us here ?” 

“ Then it is against the rules of the school ?” 
questioned Dorothy. 

Margaret arched her brow, Nellie frowned, 
and the others, with the exception of Lucy and 
Fay looked decidedly cross. 

“ Do n’t stop to discuss questions on ethics 
or morals while that rivulet is widening into a 
river,” said Fay mournfully. 

Most of the girls laughed. “ Come, Miss 
Colburn,” said Amy, “ do n’t keep Fay on the qiii 
vive any longer. 

“Young ladies,” and Dorothy spoke firmly 
now, although her face was pale and she grasped 
the back of her chair for support, “ Young ladies, 
I thank you for your kindness in inviting me 
this evening, and your repast is certainly very 
tempting ; but you will please excuse me when 
I say that I could not enjoy it, feeling that it 
was contrary to the expressed wish of Mrs. 
Templeton. I shall be happy to join in any- 
thing which she approves ;” and then she crossed 
the room, opened the window, and stepped into 
the darkness, feeling that she had lost the good 
opinion of every girl in the room. 

A profound silence followed her departure. 
Lucy and Margaret were the only ones who did 
not show in their countenances how they felt. 


70 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ The little baby !” exclaimed Amy. 

The great coward,” snapped Susie. 

“ What a paradox,” said Fay, alluding to the 
remarks of the last two speakers. “ Won’t some 
one pass the brandy-drops ?” She helped her- 
self and passed them around. Lucy who was 
last, quietly refused them. 

What nonsense now !” exclaimed Sarah 
angrily. 

“ Are you one of the weak ones who do not 
dare eat a brandy-drop, or a drop of brandy, 
for fear some good-for-nothing, low down man 
through your influence be found in the gutter?’’ 
questioned Margaret. 

“ Your logic is not good,” replied Lucy coolly. 
“I do not think the person in question could 
possibly be affected by my accepting or abstain- 
ing from the proffered dainty, as I never meet 
nor associate with that class of persons.” 

“ ‘ Diamond cut diamond,’ ” whispered Nellie 
to Susie. “ It is to be hoped they will be friends. 
There will be war if they are not.” 

Margaret did not change her^ graceful posi- 
tion as she said, “ I presume you know that such 
persons exist on this mundane sphere, though 
probably they have no gutter for them in Oak- 
hurst.” 

Lucy joined the laugh good naturedly. 

“ But what do you do with frozen pudding?” 


POSITION DEFINED. 7 1 

said Sarah, helping herself to the brandy-drops 
again. 

Nothing.” Lucy was apt not to make it 
easy for persons who questioned her. 

But, really, Miss Broad,” said Nellie, in a 
puzzled tone, “ are you afraid to trust yourself?” 

“I have never been tested,” she said senten- 
tiously ; and then rising, “Young ladies, I may 
as well define my position. I will never, know- 
ingly, taste wine or anything which contains 
the flavor of liquor.” 

“No more frozen pudding for me : no more, 
no more,” softly sang Fay. 

Lucy smilingly nodded to her as she resumed 
her seat. 

“ But what will you do ?” inquired Susie, 
“ most of the ices are flavored with something 
of the kind.” 

“ Give me some of the north side of the riv- 
ulet, which with cake and fruit will satisfy me 
fully,” and then she turned the conversation, en- 
tering heartily into the merriment, and grace- 
fully adding her part to it until the clock struck 
ten. 

“ Oh, my !” exclaimed Fay. “ Douse the 
glim? Parsons will be through the hall in fifteen 
minutes. Scatter !” 

“One moment,” said Lucy. “ I thank you 
for the pleasure of this evening, but hereafter 


72 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


I beg you will not invite me. In every lawful 
sport I am your companion, ready for fun and 
enjoyment ; but Dorothy Colburn is right and 
I thank her for the lesson she has taught me 
this evening, and now I wish you all a pleasant 
good-night.” 

As the last word left her lips a voice gasped, 
“ Parsons is coming !” and the lights were ex- 
tinguished, leaving the girls to grope their ways 
to their rooms as best they could. 


NEW LESSONS. 


73 


CHAPTER V. 

NEfV LESSONS. 

The young ladies met in the school-room 
Sabbath mornings before going to church, all 
leaving at the same time, though attending dif- 
ferent places of worship. Dorothy entered with 
much trepidation, the next morning, for although 
she felt that her course of the previous evening 
was perfectly right, yet sh^ dreaded the criti- 
cism which she feared might follow. She knew 
nothing of the words spoken by Lucy after her 
exit of the previous evening, as both had been 
too busy with their Sunday-school lessons after 
breakfast to converse on any subject. The girls 
were gathered in little groups as usual, her com- 
panions of the evening before standing together, 
and she fancied that they looked at her curious- 
ly. If Margaret had any feeling on the subject 
she was too lady-like to show it, and her greet- 
ing was as polite as usual, but Sarah scornfully 
asked if she slept well after refusing to join so 
pleasant an occasion as the one of the previous 
evening. 

She ought to have been able to,” said Lucy, 
entering just at that moment ; “ her conscience 
was clear.” Lucy had no fear of criticism for 


74 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


herself, and she had determined that her room- 
mate should be equally free from it; and as 
she grew in favor day by day and was acknowl- 
edged to be a leader with Margaret, there was 
a certain intangible something in her manner 
which gave the girl to understand that Dorothy 
was her special friend, and must be treated as 
such ; and though some of them rebelled and 
wondered why a girl so plainly dressed and with 
evidently very limited means should be allowed 
there at all, it was seldom that this thought 
found expression in words, at least when Lucy 
was present. 

Sarah was thoroughly angry at Lucy’s re- 
ply, and equally so at Dorothy’s silence, and but 
for the fact that she thought that it was not 
policy to antagonize the former would have 
given still farther vent to her ill nature ; but 
the church bell ringing just then, she headed 
the procession from the room. 

It so happened that Lucy and Amy were the 
last ones to leave the house: they walked in 
silence for a few moments, the latter purposely 
lingering until her companions were beyond 
speaking distance, when she exclaimed, “ Lucy, 
what has got into you ? I never knew you to 
act so strangely before. I declare I felt ashamed 
of you last night. I do n’t know what the girls 
will think ; and you my cousin !” 


NEW LESSONS. 75 

“ I am very sorry if I have disgraced the 
family,” replied Lucy, laughing lightly. 

“What makes you so different from what 
you were a year ago ? You used to be ready for 
all manner of fun, and a leader in all sorts of 
good times whenever we have been together; 
and I wish you would not laugh at me, it is not 
lady-like.” 

Lucy was sober enough now, and gave her 
cousin the benefit of a grave look from the 
steady brown eyes, and her voice was very 
gentle as she said, “ Dear Amy, I am glad if 
you thiuk that I am different from what I was 
a year ago. I certainly ought to be, for I have 
become a Christian within that time, and — ” 

“ What if you have,” interrupted Amy truc- 
ulently. “ If you do not wish all the girls to 
hate not only yourself, but the very name of 
your religion, you will not play the prude. Where 
is the harm of having a good time ?” 

“Nowhere,” replied Lucy, smiling at the 
vehemence and the grammar of the questioner ; 
“ but my dear coz. there are plenty of good 
times to be had without eating a supper sur- 
reptitiously at nine o’clock in the evening, and 
thereby disobeying the rules and getting indi- 
gestion.” 

“ Lucy Broad ! I think you are perfectly 
horrid, so there !” exclaimed Amy irately ; “ and 


76 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


I had so boasted of my nice cousin,” and tears 
of vexation filled the speaker’s eyes. 

‘‘ I will try and not disappoint you,” replied 
Lucy gently. ‘‘ Do not feel called upon to take 
up cudgels for me. Are none of the girls Chris- 
tians?” 

If you mean any of the pupils, yes, a dozen 
or so. If you mean any of our set, no ; unless 
1 have the misfortune to be one. 

“ Amy !” said Lucy in a shocked voice. 

Well, I do n’t care ; here I was gliding 
along beautifully and enjoying myself with the 
others, and now you must come and make me 
feel thoroughly uncomfortable by denouncing 
this, that, and the other, because I happen to be 
a member of a church. I am getting all mixed 
up. There is Margaret, who leads in Leicester 
and here, and everywhere she goes, and she does 
not hesitate to openly say that she does not be- 
lieve the Bible at all; and her father is a judge, 
and neither he nor his son pretends to believe a 
word of it ; and there is not a young lady any- 
where, whether church member or not, who 
would not be very much flattered to be noticed 
by him.” 

Why, Amy Eliot !” said her cousin, her in- 
dignation showing in her tone, “ I am ashamed 
of you. Either your trip this summer or some 
newly found acquaintances have had an unsalu- 


NEW LESSONS. 


77 


tary influence upon you. I should think Mar- 
garet’s example would be very bad for the girls.” 

‘‘ Perhaps you and that little puritanical Do- 
rothy Colburn can counteract it,” replied Amy 
sarcastically. 

“Amy,” said Lucy in an unmoved tone, 
though feeling full of indignation, “ I think 
your position in society, of which you seem to 
think so much, was too well assured for you to 
cater to the opinion of any one hoping to rise 
thereby. Now I would drop all this if I were 
you, and be just the simple sweet Amy you were 
before you came to this school.” 

Amy had no time to reply, as they had 
reached the church. They took their seats with 
the other pupils, and Lucy looked around her. 
The sunlight shone through the rich stained 
glass windows, making spots of red, blue and 
violet light, which a mass of bright hued leaves 
and late autumnal flowers seemed to reflect all 
around the desk. The sweetly solemn notes of 
the organ floated through the room, a fitting 
prelude to the earnest prayer which followed. 

Dorothy bowed her head and the tears fell 
fast, for she had brought an aching heart with 
her, and she wondered if all her school-days 
were to be made unpleasant because she was 
trying to do right. Margaret, sitting near her, 
with erect head, was conjugating a Latin verb. 


78 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


and Amy was cherishing her feelings of anger 
and disappointment. Lucy leaned her head on 
her hand and tried to follow the tender words 
of prayer, and felt that she had much to learn 
that was not taught in Madam Templeton’s 
Academy. She had been religiously trained, 
but only recently had she an idea that religion 
was anything but being good. She had looked 
upon her father and brother as simply living 
out their innate nobility of character, and had 
thought when she was finally led to accept the 
gospel in its full meaning that she had acquired 
all there was to obtain. The time she had spent 
with Dorothy, and her intercourse with other 
girls had shown her that she must take a decided 
stand if she hoped to grow in grace. Indeed 
the advent of her step-mother had opened her 
eyes to the fact that her heart was not fully right, 
and that she had a battle to fight before she 
could claim complete victory. 

The prayer was followed by singing, and Lucy 
tried to collect her thoughts and attend to the 
sermon. She reprimanded herself several times 
for inattention before its close, and could remem- 
ber but little of it, her mind had been so full 
of a desire to pursue just the right course in 
life; the text had suggested the thought and 
seemed to fit her mood. “ Then shall we know, 
if we follow on to know the Lord.” 


NEW LESSONS. 


79 


She passed a very quiet afternoon with Dor- 
othy in their own room. Sounds of pleasant 
voices and light laughter from the different 
apartments were the only sounds they heard, 
and they were uninterrupted until twilight be- 
gan to gather, and then a tap at the door ad- 
mitted Amy. 

“ I suppose you think you have been in good 
company this afternoon,” was her greeting to 
Lucy ; do you think you could favor us with 
your presence a while ? we are going to have 
some music.” 

“Come,” said Lucy, turning to Dorothy and 
deigning no reply to Amy’s ill-natured remark ; 
and suiting action to words they followed her 
to the music-room. 

Clara Hastings was singing a selection from 
some opera when they entered, and she was 
followed by one or two others who sang some 
popular songs, and then Nellie Wood, turning 
to Dorothy, said, “ I noticed your voice in church 
this morning, wo n’t you sing for us ?” 

Dorothy hesitated a moment, and then taking 
her place at the piano sang the beautiful words 
of the hymn : 

“ My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine. 

For thee all the follies of sin I resign ; 

My gracious Redeemer, my Saviour art thou. 

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus, ’t is now.” 


8o 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Her voice was very sweet, and she sang all the 
verses : sang them from a full heart. Laughing 
faces sobered, and as she rose many eyes were 
filled with tears. 

What beautiful words,” said Fannie Moore, 
“ I am sure we all thank you,” and then some 
one called for a song from Lucy. 

“ Let us all sing,” she replied, taking Dor- 
othy’s place and playing the air of '‘Only a 
step to Jesus.” 

Most of the girls gathered round the piano. 
“ Come, Margaret,” said Susie. 

“ No, thank you,” replied Margaret scorn- 
fully. “ I am no hypocrite, and I think it is just 
as bad to sing a lie as to tell one ; and she went 
to the window and gazed out into the gathering 
darkness. 

Dorothy thought there was truth in her words, 
though so ungraciously spoken, and the hymns 
she sang were earnest prayers. 

Years after, the memory of that evening 
came back to more than one of those young 
girls gathered there singing, some with full 
hearts, sweet words of faith and love — others 
following the tune with no thought of anything 
but the melody ; and the scornful listener by the 
window felt a lack that had never been filled, 
and knew that her heart was not satisfied. 

The days flew swiftly by, filled with study 


NEW LESSONS. 


8l 


and pleasant intercourse. All seemed to have 
found their places, and with few exceptions to 
contentedly fill them. Differences of opinion 
were constantly arising, for thirty young ladies 
could not be expected to agree on all subjects ; 
these were usually amicably adjusted. Lucy 
never interfered with any one who did not try 
to influence her in a wrong direction, which she 
felt was frequently the case, and she was often 
called to take a decided stand on some question 
of conscience. 

Going through the hall to the school-room 
one morning she was met by Fay, who waltzed 
up to her exclaiming, “ A pleasant greeting to 
you, fair maid ! I am the bearer of good tidings.” 

“ I am sure you are very welcome then, sweet 
Fay, by nature as well as by name,” and Lucy 
patted the golden head lovingly. But the little 
sprite danced away again, chanting, “ Rejoice, O 
maiden with the nut-brown hair and deep brown 
eyes ! we are to have a half-holiday this after- 
noon, that we may improve our unformed minds 
and train our unartistic eyes and delight our 
uneducated senses, by a visit to De Beck’s cele- 
brated gallery, which at the present rendering 
is filled with gems of art, some from the old 
masters, but mostly from the new,” and she 
disappeared into the school-room as she uttered 
the last word, followed more leisurely by Lucy. 

6 


82 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


The great room was buzzing with pleasur- 
able anticipation, which formed itself into ex- 
clamations of, “ How delightful !” “ Such a 

treat !” “A rare chance for us amateurs, etc.” 

The morning hours lagged, but noon came 
at last, and the pupils met by appointment and 
went in groups to the gallery. Lucy was greatly 
pleased with the interest with which Dorothy 
studied the pictures. She knew that one reason 
she came to the Academy was in order that she 
might avail herself of the instruction in paint- 
ing given by the very best teachers. She studied 
the works of art long after the other girls had 
gone, and did not notice that Lucy, who had 
waited for her, was not equally interested. ** She 
will succeed,” thought Lucy, “ such ardor never 
fails.” 

“Are you as much interested in anything 
else,” she asked, when the darkness had finally 
compelled them to leave and they were quietly 
talking in their own room of the merits of the 
different pictures. 

- “ Go with me to-morrow afternoon and see,” 
replied Dorothy. 

“ Where ?” 

But Dorothy would not tell, and the next 
afternoon Lucy watched her wonderingly as she 
gathered thimble, scissors, needles and thready 
and placed them in her satchel, then turning to 


NEW LESSONS. 


83 

her said brightly, “Now come, and we will have 
a good long afternoon. I have special permis- 
sion for us both provided we make up our les- 
sons. I want you to go to the missionary meet- 
ing with me.’' 

“I do not wonder that you did not tell me 
before,” replied Lucy, whose good breeding and 
innate sense of propriety had not permitted her 
to ask any questions relating to the invitation 
Dorothy had given her. “ I cannot understand 
how you can deliberately choose to go to a mis- 
sionary-meeting,” she continued, with more of 
perplexity than inquiry in her tone. 

“ Why, because I do love the cause of mis- 
sions, I enjoy the meetings and everything per- 
taining to them,” and Dorothy’s tone expressed 
the lightness of her heart. 

And now was Lucy thoroughly surprised. 
That any one should really seem to anticipate 
the going in the sense of a pleasure was beyond 
her comprehension. 

“ I cannot understand it,” she said. “ I have 
been to two or three such meetings and I think 
they are the most stupid places I ever attended. 
They sang one or two worn-out missionary 
hymns, read some dry pieces from missionary 
papers and magazines, passed the contribution- 
box, then all rose with an evident feeling of 
relief, and immediately commenced to talk as 


84 


LUCY broad's choice. 


fast as possible about the latest news, or express 
freely their opinion on some question which had 
been brought up in the business part of the 
meeting, and on which the poor president had 
vainly tried to induce them to speak at the prop- 
er time.” 

Quite a graphic description,” said Dorothy 
gaily. “ I have attended some such myself. 
But what did Lucy Broad do to make it inter- 
esting?” 

“ I ! I beg your pardon ! but I did nothing. 
Why should I ? I do not believe in foreign 
missions any way. I think charity begins at 
home.” 

And now was Dorothy truly grieved. Oh, 
Lucy!” she exclaimed, drawing off her gloves 
and sitting down. “Is it possible that that trite 
aphorism carries more weight to your mind than 
the last command of our risen Lord ? If your 
next door neighbor were starving would you 
carry her food?” 

“ Why, yes,” replied Lucy wonderingly, and 
thinking there was very little to do in wealthy 
Oakhurst. 

“ And if your next door neighbor happened 
to live a mile away would you let her starve ?” 

Lucy laid down her book, folded her hands 
in her lap, and looked soberly at her questioner, 
and her reply seemed to be more of an expres- 


NEW LESSONS. 85 

sion of her own conviction than an answer to 
Dorothy’s inquiry. 

“ Of course it makes no difference if people 
are hungry whether they live in ‘ Greenland’s 
icy mountains or India’s coral strand,’ they 
should be fed. But I did not suppose that mis- 
sion work was the dispensing of food. I thought 
that was charity.” 

“ I am glad you make that distinction, for 
although the two works are nearly inseparable, 
yet they are quite distinct. Now, then, if your 
next door neighbor were hungry for the bread 
of life would you carry it to her ?” 

“ No,” said Lucy, thinking of the elegant 
Mrs. Eldridge. 

The reply was evidently different from what 
Dorothy expected, for she hesitated, and finally 
said, “ But why not?” 

“Because I should think Mr. Clarke, our 
minister, the most fitting person to talk with 
her.” 

“ But Lucy, as a Christian have you no re- 
sponsibility in the matter?” 

“ Granted that I have,” she replied slowly, in 
a startled tone, “ that is not foreign mission work. 
I cannot see the sense of spending ninety-nine 
cents to get the other cent to Arabia or some 
other impbssible place.” 

“ I fear you have not studied the matter. The 


86 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


best of authority says that ninety-two cents out 
of every dollar contributed is expended for the 
foreign work, and only eight cents for salaries 
and necessary expenses at home. How can you 
pray, ‘ Thy kingdom come,’ and not be inter- 
ested in missions?” 

Lucy readily yielded a point when once it 
was made clear to her, but like many others she 
had accepted all the platitudes offered as excuses 
why people should not be interested in the sub- 
ject without giving it much thought. She was 
now thoroughly aroused and determined to sift 
the whole matter. 

“ Why not work at home and save the whole 
dollar for our own country, and then we should 
not hear so much of the self-abnegation of mis- 
sionaries, who give up home and friends, etc., etc. 
I think they must have a pretty good time trav- 
elling round and seeing the world.” 

“ Lucy Broad ; that is not spoken like yourself 
either logically or lovingly. Read this when you 
have time,” and she slipped a newspaper clipping 
into her hand. “ There are many English fam- 
ilies in India ; supposing that your little sister 
had been born there, should the accident of her 
birth deprive her of the privilege of becoming a 
Christian ?” 

“ Dear little Hazel, no !” said Lucy tenderly 
but emphatically, “ Do not say any more, but 


NEW LESSONS. 8/ 

let me think,” and she rested her elbow on the 
table, leaning' her head upon her hand. 

Dorothy’s words, “ As a Christian have you no 
responsibility ?” had moved her deeply, and 
her heart was undergoing a most rigid exami- 
nation. 

Dorothy watched the pure classic face, which 
expressed so much true nobility of character, 
mixed with strength but also with sound sense 
and tenderness. The little French clock on the 
mantle ticked softly, and Dorothy glanced at it, 
fearing that after all she would be late at the 
meeting, and then chid herself, thinking that 
perhaps she was doing just as effective mission- 
ary work where she was. The silence lasted some 
time and then Lucy rose, saying, “ I am wrong ! 
alltogether wrong and selfish. Dorothy, I will 
go to the meeting with you.” 

‘‘Thank you! 1 am so glad. Take your 
thimble, for it is the home-afternoon, and we 
are to sew for a poor minister’s family way out 
West.” 

Lucy was soon ready and they ran lightly 
down the stairs. “ Girls, girls !” called a voice 
from the music-room as they passed the door, 
“ where are you going ?” 

“ Yes, where ?” chorussed a number of 
voices. 

Dorothy hesitated, and Lucy replied as though 


88 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


it were a most common affair, “We are going to 
the missionary meeting.” 

A surprised silence ensued for a moment and 
then Amy exclaimed, “ Lucy Broad !” 

“ I have come to think,” — and Lucy wishing 
to put a stop to what she knew was likely to fol- 
low, was guilty of interrupting the speaker — “ I 
have come to think that my name uttered by 
you in that tone is an epitome of indignation.” 

“ You are right,” continued Amy. “ You are 
perfectly unaccountable. It is only a short time 
ago that you were very fierce in your denuncia- 
tions of missionaries ; how long since have you 
been converted to this new phase of thought?” 

“ About twenty minutes,” replied Lucy coolly. 

“ I presume we can thank our little Puritan 
Dorothy for it.” Amy’s tone was angry. 

Before Lucy could reply, Fay tripped up to 
her and making a sweeping courtesy, said, “ So 
she should be a good little girl and go to the 
meeting if she wished to, and she should be a 
missionary, too, and go to ‘ Afric’s sunny foun- 
tains,’ ‘ where only man is vile,’ if she wished to, 
and help the cannibals cook their dinner.” 

Dorothy’s shocked feelings showed plainly 
in her face, but if Lucy felt any emotion in the 
matter no one could detect it in her countenance. 

“ Imagine the elegant Lucy Broad seated on 
the ground before a semi-circle of cross-legged 


NEW LESSONS. 


89 

little Turks, amusing herself by listening to 
their guttural language, or trying to understand 
some Indian gibberish,” said Nellie Wood with 
a laugh. 

“Can’t possibly do it,” retorted Fay, “too 
big a stretch of the imagination.” 

“For my part,” said Margaret with curling 
lip, “ I think the heathen are a great deal better 
off before the misnomer of a self-sacrificing mis- 
sionary tries to create public sympathy and earn 
a big salary by proclaiming to the world that he 
is ready to leave home and friends for the good 
of the untold millions, not one-tenth part of 
whom he can ever hope to allow to bask in the 
light of his countenance. Do n’t you think there 
are heathen enough at home without sailing the 
wide sea over in search of more ?” 

“ Yes,” said Lucy emphatically and pointedly. 

Margaret colored, and the rest of the girls 
with the exception of Dorothy and Fay, laughed. 

“ Well, I have noticed one thing,” continued 
Margaret, to whom opposition from the girls 
was something new, “ wherever the missionary 
goes, there follows in his track a stream of rum, 
woe and misery.” 

The tears were rolling down Dorothy’s cheeks, 
and most of the girls looked shocked, but Lucy 
with calm imperturbability said, “ Hear this,” 
and from the scrap which Dorothy had given 


90 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


her she read, “ The hardships and perils which 
missionaries have undergone in Corea and China 
during the last decade remind us of the follow- 
ing advertisement which a subscriber suggests 
should be printed in one of our secular papers, 
which delight in scoffing at the self-denial and 
courage and usefulness of the Christian mis- 
sionary abroad : 

“ ‘ Wanted — Free-thinkers to go to the south- 
ern part of Formosa, which is inhabited by can- 
nibals, among whom no white man has yet been 
seen. These missionaries must, of course, go at 
the risk of their lives and with no salary guaran- 
teed. They will have to tell the people that 
there is no God, and that when they die they 
will return to dust. They must put the language 
into written form and teach the natives all the 
arts of civilized life.’ 

“ Alas ! it will be a very long while before 
free-thinkers, infidels and scorners will rush for- 
ward unitedly and say, ‘ Here am I, send me.’ 
No, they will allow the missionary to blaze a 
path through the forest of danger and supersti- 
tion, and then follow him with their pack-loads 
of rum, and tobacco and opium, and infidel libra- 
ries. They will destroy in these poor savages 
the images and ideals of God which faithful 
missionaries have labored long in rearing.” 

“ I suppose you think that is unanswerable,” 


NEW LESSONS. 


91 


said Margaret with more show of vexation than 
she often indulged in, “ but as I am one of the 
free-thinkers it is all lost on me. I hope you will 
find more congenial company where you are 
going, and will be able to persuade the people 
to send their money to some impossible place at 
the end of the earth while people on our own 
continent are starving.” 

“It is a ^^7;;^^-missionary meeting we are on 
our way to,” said Lucy, stepping into the hall. 
She was followed by a ripple of laughter in which 
even Margaret joined. 

They were a little late and the ladies were 
just singing the last line of the hymn, 

“ I gave, I gave my life for thee, 

What hast thou given for me ?" 

Nothing could have been more appropriate 
for Lucy’s present mood, and she repeated the 
words over and over as she bowed her head and 
listened to the short prayer which followed. At 
its close the president repeated those wonderful 
words, “ For God so loved the world, that he 
gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever be- 
lieveth in him should not perish, but have ever- 
lasting life.” And then some one near her said, 
“ How then shall they call on him in whom they 
have not believed ? and how shall they believe 
in him of whom they have not heard ? and how 


92 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


shall they hear without a preacher? And how 
shall they preach, except they be sent ? As it is 
written, How beautiful are the feet of them that 
preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tid- 
ings of good things.” 

And from the opposite side of the room came 
the words, solemnly spoken, “I heard the voice 
of the Lord, saying. Whom shall I send, and 
who will go for us?” and Lucy started as Doro- 
thy’s sweet voice said eagerly, “ Here am I ! 
send me.” Did she mean it ! and Lucy, think- 
ing of this, lost the other verses and was roused 
to consciousness of herself by a silence, and look- 
ing up saw the eyes of several of the ladies fixed 
upon her as though waiting, and almost without 
thought she repeated, “ Open thou mine eyes, 
that I may behold wondrous things out of thy 
law.” 

“ Sing ‘Sweet By and By ’ ” said the presi- 
dent, and while they were singing she passed to 
each lady a piece of work, and as the last note 
died away said, “ I am a little perplexed, as it 
was only yesterday that I received an answer to 
my letter, and we wish the box to reach its desti- 
nation by Christmas, and it only lacks four weeks 
of that time. We can finish the white sewing, 
but I do not see what we shall do for dresses, 
coats, etc., unless we have some ready made 
that we can donate. Not worn cast-off garments. 


NEW LESSONS. 


93 


for a missionary or a minister is entitled to just 
as good clothes in Nebraska as here in Massa- 
chusetts. The letter says there are four in the 
family : the minister, his wife, a boy of twelve, 
and a little girl of five. What shall we do?” 
Then she read the letter which enumerated the 
articles needed, giving the sizes required. 

There was silence for a moment ; the ladies 
were evidently considering the state of the home 
wardrobes and what could be spared from them, 
and one after another offered some garment; 
but Lucy did not hear, for she was wondering if 
she could make a sacrifice, if it really were her 
duty to ? In the store-room at home were several 
chests packed full of clothing which had be- 
longed to her mother, and which no one had 
seen since with loving hands she had tenderly 
packed them away. Could she offer a few of 
them ? No ! she could not ; and then came the 
memory of the sweet unselfish life which had 
closed on earth to unfold in heaven four years 
before. If that dear voice could speak what 
would it say ? 

“We have provided for all excepting the 
minister’s wife, and a dress, cloak and hat for 
the little girl. What shall we do for them? 
Has no one anything that she can spare?” came 
dimly to Lucy’s ears. 

The silence which followed roused her. “ I 


94 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


beg- pardon,” she said, “ will you kindly tell me 
what you were saying?” 

The president wondered at the tears in the 
brown eyes and the tremble in the gentle voice. 
Lucy lost no word this time. “ Just about my 
mother’s size,” she thought, “ I will do it,” and 
aloud, “If you will leave the matter with me I 
think I can supply what is needed.” 

The ladies looked at her wonderingly and ad- 
miringly, and several of them expressed hearty 
thanks, and then one of them said, “ I received 
a letter from Mrs. Hall, our missionary in Alas- 
ka,” and she proceeded to relate some interest- 
ing facts contained in it. Then others spoke of 
some incidents which had come under their 
notice, pertaining to the home work, and shin- 
ing needles flew, and sewing progressed, and 
Lucy was amazed to And how quickly the shad- 
ow crept into the room making it too dark to sew 
longer ; and then all rose, and clasping hands 
all round the room, sang softly, 

“ Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love." 

Pleasant greetings were exchanged, and Lucy 
was cordially invited to come again ; and then 
she went out and walked silently through the 
gloaming, speaking no word, but with a heart 
full of new peace. 


NEW LESSONS. 95 

The girls were gathered in the hall waiting 
a summons to supper as they entered. 

Why, Lucy, what has happened to you ?” 
exclaimed Susie Warner. I did not see a pret- 
tier face on canvas at the exhibition yesterday 
afternoon.” 

“ That ’s because she has been a good little 
girl,” said Fay. Don’t you wish we had all 
gone to the meeting, if it has such transforming 
power? I have a little cousin, and I have fre- 
quently heard her say when comparing herself 
with her mite of a sister, ‘ Georgie ’s such a dood 
’ittle dirl, an’ I ’s such a naughty ’ittle dirl, an’ 
mamma does ebery sing for me we are the 
‘naughty ’ittle dirls,’ and can’t expect to grow 
handsome.” 

For reply Lucy stooped and kissed the saucy 
lips, much to the astonishment of them all. 


96 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER VI. 

FULFILLING THE LA W. 

The school term at Madame Templeton’s 
commenced so late in the autumn and closed so 
early the following summer, that the pupils did 
not go to their homes during the interval, but 
spent the short vacations, of which there were 
several, at the Academy. The first week in De- 
cember always brought various boxes, bundles, 
and trunks, which when opened, displayed win- 
ter dresses, wraps and furs. 

Lucy noticed that while nothing came for 
Dorothy she was always ready to praise and 
admire the articles which came for others. 

What a pity that all these things could not 
come on Christmas,” exclaimed Nellie Wood, 
poising a handsome velvet hat on her hand, as 
turning it round she surveyed it with critical 
eyes. 

Ugh !” said Fay, with a little shiver, “ my 
teeth know no difference between the second 
and twenty-fifth of the month. They chatter 
just as much on the former day as on the latter,” 
and she danced to a mirror to admire herself in 
a new cloak, while Dorothy quietly left the room. 


FULFILLING THE LAW. 


97 


Very stylish Lucy looked the following Sun- 
day. Her dress was of a soft brown woollen and 
matched her rich sealskin sacque, and her velvet 
hat with its drooping plumes of the same color 
was very becoming. 

Dorothy was also dressed in brown, but it 
was the same suit she had worn through the fall. 
The only change in her apparel was a plain felt 
hat which she had substituted for the straw she 
had been wearing, and a woollen jacket which 
she put on under her sacque. The two girls 
presented a striking contrast as they stood for a 
moment fastening their gloves, and then Dor- 
othy said, How pretty you look, Lucy.” 

“ My clothes, you mean,” replied Lucy, tak- 
ing up her muff. “ It is you who look pretty.” 

Dorothy smiled and the color in her cheeks 
brightened a little. Surely her beauty was not 
dependent on her garments. Her face was very 
fair and her features regular, but it was the ex- 
pression of a heart at peace with God and her 
fellow creatures which gave to Dorothy Colburn 
the beauty which all admired and many envied, 
though few understood it. 

Lucy presented a striking contrast in looks 
as well as in dress. Her beauty lacked the con- 
stant expression which she was striving to ob- 
tain by living a life which should bring peace 
of soul. 


7 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


The school-room was buzzing with happy 
voices as they entered. “ Welcome to our mu- 
tual admiration society,” exclaimed Fay. “You 
say my new dress is pretty, and I ’ll say your 
sacque — my ! ai n’t it a stunner !” 

“ Fay Fairbanks !” said Nellie reprovingly. 

“ 1 should think you would freeze in that 
little thing,” commented Sarah, fastening her 
fur cape and turning to Dorothy before Fay had 
time to reply. 

“She is not dependent on her clothes for 
warmth,” said Lucy, with flashing eyes ; “ she has 
a heart warm enough to prevent her from feel- 
ing cold, and a tongue wise enough to know 
when to be quiet.” 

“ Which is more than you have,” replied Sa- 
rah, astonished into the risk of a quarrel with 
one she wished for policy’s sake to propitiate. 

It was seldom that Lucy allowed herself to 
retaliate when vexed, and had the shaft been 
aimed at herself, it would have fallen harmless. 
She regained her self-possession in a moment 
and opened her lips to apologize, when Fay 
said, 

“We shall have to go to church Indian file 
this morning, the path is so narrow, though 
Lucy, I presume, will continue to prefer the 
Broad way.” 

Two or three only of the girls seemed to 


FULFILLING THE LAW. 


99 


comprehend her meaning, but the flash faded 
from Lucy's eyes as she replied, “ Believe me, 
girls, although my actions sometimes belie my 
words, I am trying to walk in the narrow 
way.” 

The girls quietly left the room, and Amy 
wondered why it was so easy for her cousin to 
openly acknowledge her convictions of right ; 
while Lucy was glad that the snow of the pre- 
vious night had made the path so narrow that 
no one could walk beside her, for thought was 
busy and she was truly grieved for her hasty 
speech and sorry for Dorothy, and longed to 
help her, but saw no way but to watch and bide 
her time ; for with all her gentleness Dorothy 
possessed a sturdy pride which would not accept 
favors simply as such ; and Dorothy was trying 
not to let Sarah’s words and the scornful looks 
of some of the other girls trouble her. Mean- 
while the church bells rang out on the frosty 
air calling all to come and find rest and peace 
which the world cannot give. 

Lucy was quieted by the service, and this 
mood extended into the afternoon. Dorothy 
saw that while she held a book, ostensibly read- 
ing, her mind was far away, for the leaves were 
not turned, the brown eyes took no note of any- 
thing around her, and the handsome face was 
very thoughtful. 


lOO 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ Do you know how long it is since you have 
spoken,” she inquired at last. 

I have been trying to become acquainted 
with myself,” replied Lucy, changing her posi- 
tion but not her expression. “ Why is it that 
since I have become a Christian I am so easily 
overcome with anger?” 

Dorothy understood the proud but fine nature 
which felt called to resent a wrong wherever 
seen, but which considered it no humiliation to 
apologize when found in error herself. She ap- 
preciated the innate nobility that accepted the 
position which had been handed down to her 
for generations, the result of blood, breeding 
and affluence, but which made no boast, and 
while she gave homage to no one exacted none 
from any one. She could understand how diffi- 
cult it was for Lucy, fearing none, to remain quiet 
in the presence of wrong or injustice ; but she 
gave utterance to none- of these thoughts, but 
simply asked, “Is it not because you notice it 
more and are trying to overcome it?” 

“ Possibly in part ; but looking back over the 
past years I find that my dear mother smoothed 
all the rough places for me, and after her death 
I had my own way so much that I seldom had 
occasion to be angry, and I thought after I be- 
came a Christian that I should not be tempted 
that way; but when my step-mother came I 


FULFILLING THE LAW. 


lOI 


seemed to be in a chronic state of ill-nature, and 
I find that even when away from her presence 
I am often vexed with others.’’ 

“ My dear Lucy,” and Dorothy’s voice was so 
gentle that Lucy took no offence, “ I fear the 
cause is within. The old year is dying and most 
people make many good resolutions a little later. 
Suppose that we anticipate the usual time and 
make ours now, resolved that if we are spared 
through the coming months we will keep con- 
stantly in mind the one thought, of pleasing our 
Saviour in all that we do.” 

Lucy walked to the window without reply- 
ing, and pushing up the shade leaned her head 
against the sash. The sun was setting behind 
the western hills, leaving behind him a train of 
crimson glory which tinged the pure white of 
the snow, and shining through the long avenue 
entered the window and surrounded like a halo 
the quiet figure standing there. The crimson 
melted to purple and then faded to gray and the 
shadows lengthened, and as the evening star 
stole tremblingly forth into the blue firmament, 
Lucy left her place and said, “ Dorothy, it is a 
solemn promise, but I will try and all through 
the coming years, as in the trackless deep the 
north star guides the mariner, those words di- 
rected Lucy’s steps through the tangled maze 
of life’s journey. 


102 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

The following- days were very busy ones, for 
Christmas was near, and in addition to studies 
there were many preparations for that event. 
All welcomed the week of holiday which pre- 
ceded it, and all over the great house the girls 
gathered in groups, and there were frequent 
cries of, “Oh, Susie, don’t come here!” and, 
there comes Nellie !” and something would be 
thrust hastily out of sight. 

Three times in one morning Fay had heard 
similar words, until in mimic despair she said, 
“ I do n’t seem to be wanted anywhere ; I think 
I will go up stairs and shut myself in the 
closet.” 

“ I beg you will not,” said Margaret, remem- 
bering a beautifully bound volume of select 
poems she had neglected to put out of sight. 

“ Et tu. Brute !” and with a little grimace 
suggestive of mischief, she crossed the great 
school-room and took a seat in the farthest cor- 
ner with her face to the wall, where she re- 
mained for about two minutes, when the voice 
of Helen Grant exclaiming, “ Oh, girls ! I have 
thought of something lovely!” brought her 
back again to add her voice to the others asking 
in anxious tones, 

“ What is it?” 

“ Do n’t you remember the lovely Madonna 
we saw at the exhibition ? Well, it ’s for sale.” 


FULFILLING THE LAW. 


103 


“ Such an astounding piece of intelligence 
quite takes my breath away,” interruped Fay. 

‘"I would ask Margaret to take you out of 
the room if I did not need your help,” replied 
Helen, pulling one of her golden curls. “ Now 
keep still a moment. I will give you a chance 
to speak later. Well, the picture is for sale: 
price, one hundred dollars, though I think that 
under the circumstances they would be willing 
to take less.” 

“ What circumstances ?” from several voices. 

“Oh, sphynx, expound your riddle,” cried 
Fay. 

Helen laughed good-naturedly. “The cir- 
cumstances are just these. Madame Temple- 
ton has made us all a present every Christmas, 
and while we have remembered her each year, 
it has been in comparatively a small way. You 
know how much Madame admired that Ma- 
donna ; let us buy and give it to her.” 

“ I think several others have lost their breath, 
by the gasping,” said Fay. “ Helen’s audacity 
is only exceeded by her generosity. Wouldn’t 
you like the world ?” 

“Only this little piece of it at this time,” re- 
returned Helen pleasantly. “ It will not be a 
very onerous undertaking, pussy, when you re- 
member that there are thirty of us, and some of 
us have money to spare.” 


104 LUCY broad’s choice. 

Are we all here?” inquired Susie, looking 
around. 

“ I think so. I have been collecting my 
forces for some time by inviting all who were 
not already here to be present at nine o’clock.” 

“ To hear a dissertation on plethoric pocket- 
books,” supplemented Fay. 

“ I think it would be a very nice thing to 
do. I will give five dollars,” said Margaret care- 
lessly. 

I will give five,” said Sarah ostentatiously. 

Various sums were pledged, according to in- 
clination or ability. 

“ Now, Dorothy,” said Helen. 

I cannot promise now, but I think I will 
give a dollar. 

“ And I will give a dollar,” said Lucy quick- 

ly- 

“ Lucy Broad !” Amy’s voice was full of 
chagrin, but the haughty set of her cousin’s 
head warned her to say no more. 

“If this is all,” said Dorothy, “ please excuse 
me, as I have an errand down town,” and she 
left the room followed in a moment by Lucy. 

“'I never thought my cousin penurious be- 
fore,” exclaimed Amy, as the door closed after 
her ; “ I do not understand it.” 

“ I do, perfectly well,” said Margaret, “ and I 
think the honor of the family is in more dan- 


FULFILLING THE LAW. I05 

ger of suffering by the Eliot side than by the 
Broad.” 

Amy’s eyes snapped and her lips parted, but 
before she could utter the angry words which 
surged to them Helen said quietly, 

“ I think I understand Lucy’s motive ; she 
did not wish to give more than Dorothy.” 

“ I think she is just as good and noble as she 
can be,” and Susie’s eyes filled with tears, “ and 
she is not afraid to carry out her convictions.” 

I glory in her spunk,” said Fay irrelevantly. 

“ It is not spunk,” replied Helen. 

“ No,” said Susie, “that attribute takes quite 
a different form.” 

“ Well, I am glad you think so,” and Amy’s, 
anger vanished and she looked relieved, “ but it 
is a new role for Lucy to play.” 

In the meantime the subject of this conver- 
sation had entered her own room, where she 
found Dorothy seated in a low rocker mending 
a very shabby pair of gloves. Lucy understood 
now why she had hesitated to pledge the dollar, 
but she made no comment, and in a few mo- 
ments Dorothy looked up saying brightly, 

“ There ! I guess they will go a while longer; 
and now I must hurry and match my worsted, 
or I shall not finish mamma’s shawl in time 
and donning hat and wrap she was soon hurry- 
ing down the snowy street. 


I06 LUCY broad’s choice. 

Her simple purchase was soon made, and to 
save time she returned by a shorter way which 
led around through an alley. Her hurried steps 
were arrested by the sound of childish voices, 
and looking into the yard back of the store she 
saw a boy of ten and a girl of eight gathering 
coal from a heap of cinders. The yard was 
large and the pure white of the snow was un- 
broken save by the dark pile of ashes and cin- 
ders and the little path that led to it. Most of 
the ground was in shadow, but a ray of sun- 
light shining over the top of the building en- 
veloped the little girl in brightness, and Doro- 
thy thought she had never seen a sweeter face 
than peeped from the old hood which covered 
the curly head. A ragged shawl was folded 
over her shoulders, crossed over her chest and 
tied in the back. The boy’s garments were 
patched and threadbare, but neat and clean. 

“ Say, Dannie,” said the little girl, ai n’t 
we got a nice lot !” and she held up the half- 
filled basket. 

“Yes, Marjorie, you ’ve done well ; and look 
at mine. Now we can have a fire all day, and 
perhaps we won’t have to go to bed to keep 
warm.” 

Dorothy opened a gate and went towards 
them. “ Where do you live ?” she inquired. 

Little Marjorie clung shyly to her brother. 


FULFILLING THE LAW. 107 

who said, “ Over there at the foot of the 
lane.’’ 

“ Will you show me the way?” 

They looked at her, then at the half-filled 
baskets. 

You can come back later,” said Dorothy. 

“ So we can,” replied Dannie, and they de- 
scended from the little hill of cinders and led 
the way through the lane in an opposite direc- 
tion to the one Dorothy had started to take. 

She learned, before they reached the end of 
their walk, that their name was Sherman, that 
their father had been dead six years, and their 
mother supported them by sewing, but she had 
been sick lately, and sometimes they did not 
have any supper ; she was better now, and they 
most always had breakfast and dinner. 

Their walk terminated at the foot of the 
lane, before a tiny house, the door of which was 
opened by a pleasant-faced woman. The room 
into which Dorothy entered was poorly fur- 
nished but perfectly neat, and everything in it 
had been made the most of. 

Unlike most people in her circumstances 
Mrs. Sherman was bright, genial, and cordial, 
She made her visitor very welcome, wiping an 
already dustless chair for her with her apron. 
She was more reticent than her children had 
been, possibly because she was hard of hearing. 


I08 LUCY broad’s choice. 

She could do very nice sewing, but seldom 
found employment in that line, and was obliged 
to do shop-work at shop prices. 

Dorothy called at the grocer’s on her way 
back and bought fifty cents worth of provisions 
to be sent with fifty cents worth of coal to Mrs. 
Sherman. 

“ There goes a part of Mrs. Templeton’s 
Madonna,” she said to herself, “ but they sha’ n’t 
suffer, so far as my little dollar will prevent. I 
only wish it were a hundred.” 

Lucy was surprised that Dorothy took out 
her paints on her return, instead of crocheting 
on the unfinished shawl, and still more sur- 
prised when she stood before the canvass as the 
afternoon waned, at the result of those hours of 
work. 

The scene was a wintry morning with a cold, 
wintry sky from which the sun seemed vainly 
trying to warm the earth. In a cheerless yard, 
from surrounding whiteness, rose a pile of cin- 
ders, upon which stood two little figures hold- 
ing baskets partially filled with bits of coal. 
The picture was life-like, for Dorothy had trans- 
ferred to the dead canvass the living picture of 
the morning. The most wonderful part was 
the ray of sunshine which enveloped the little 
girl. 

“ Dorothy !” exclaimed Lucy, when she had 


FULFILLING THE LAW. IO9 

stood speechless for some minutes, ‘‘ you have 
outdone yourself. You must have worked un- 
der an inspiration.” 

Do you think Madame Templeton would 
like it?” 

“ She must be hard to please if she would 
not.” 

“ Thank you. My poor little dollar is gone, 
and I do wish to give her something.” Doro- 
thy’s tone was very wishful, and Lucy knew 
she was thinking that the girls would consider 
it very odd that she did not join them in a com- 
mon gift ; and a, half-formed project came to 
her which she would watch for an opportunity 
to execute. 

“ Lucy, Lucy ! come into the school-room,” 
called Amy as she was passing the door the 
next morning. 

“ Thank you, but I cannot stop now. I have 
finished all my fancy-work, and I am going 
down town to make a few purchases, and I am 
in a great hurry for I must pack and send them 
to-day.” 

Her haste was so great that she started to go 
through the lane, and there in the yard were 
Dannie and Marjorie again. Lucy recognized 
them at once. 

“ How wonderful,” she said to herself, “ Dor- 
othy is a natural artist ; the scene is perfect.” 


no LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

Approaching the children, she drew from 
them the same story which they had rehearsed 
to Dorothy, with the addition, '‘That a nice 
lady had given them food and a whole lot of 
coal, but mamma said that they must get as 
much as they could, just the same, ’cause it 
wouldn’t last for ever.” 

“ Mamma is shrewd and deserves to succeed,” 
she thought, “ and there is where Dorothy’s dol- 
lar went.” 

“Why, what is the matter?” inquired Doro- 
thy, as Lucy hurriedly entered the room a few 
moments later, “ I never knew you to rush be- 
fore, your movements are always slow and grace- 
ful.” 

For reply Lucy walked to the finished pic- 
ture, which rested on an easel, and looking at it 
admiringly for a moment, said, “ May I show 
this to the girls?” and Dorothy wonderingly 
replied in the affirmative. 

The young ladies were still in the school- 
room busy with various kinds of fancy-work 
when Lucy entered with the picture, which she 
placed in a good light, simply saying, “ Look !” 

A moment of silence followed, and then the 
air was filled with exclamations. “ How beau- 
tiful !” “ What a sweet face that little girl has !” 
“ How true to life !” “ Look at that sunbeam !” 
and “ Did Dorothy paint it ?” 


FULFILLING THE LAW. 


Ill 


‘‘ I did not suppose that Dorothy Colburn 
could paint like that,” said Eleanor Fairchild, 
who had never before shown any interest either 
in Dorothy or her affairs. 

“ Where have you lived all your days not to 
know that some people are born artists ?” replied 
Fay before any one else had time to speak. 
“ My teacher in Leicester was one, for instance. 
Never mind the rhetoric, Nellie Wood, I assure 
you I can interpret your look, and you know 
what I mean. He never took a lesson of any 
one, and his pictures always command a very 
high price, and when I saw him hold one of my 
daubs off at arnl’s length and politely try to find 
something in it to commend, I bade him good 
morning, and gave up trying to be what I plain- 
ly could not be, much to his relief and mine 
also.” 

‘‘ Dorothy certainly received the gift as her 
natural inheritance,” supplemented Lucy. “Her 
drawings at school in her childhood days were 
the pride of her teachers, and having exhausted 
all the resources of Northwood she came here, 
and this is the result. If you have admired it 
enough I will tell you why I show it to you,” 
and she repeated the story which the children 
had told to her. “And now, girls,” she added, 
“let us make it a right merry Christmas for the 
Shermans.” 


II2 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Lucy Broad, you ’re a tru — ” commenced 
Fay, but the sentence was never completed, as a 
white hand covered her rosy mouth. 

“ Susie Warner !” she exclaimed, pushing the 
hand away, won’t you let me give Lucy her 
meed of praise?” 

“Not with slang.” 

Fay pouted. 

“ Well, empty your pocket-books then, and 
make Lucy your almoner,” and she caught up 
her work-basket and commenced passing it 
around. 

“ How do we know that these Shermans are 
at all worthy of our beneficence?” inquired Hor- 
tense Russell, the prudent one of the school. 
“We have never even heard of their existence 
till now.” 

“ Have not Lucy and Dorothy constituted 
themselves a committee of investigation?” re- 
plied Fay. “ Have they not visited these peo- 
ple in their abode and reported as to the neat- 
ness of the house, the good behavior of Dan and 
Marjorie, and the willingness of Mother Sher- 
man to work, if she could only find something 
to do ; and last, but by no means least, her pru- 
dence and forethought in still collecting coal 
when she had enough to last her for some 
days? So now. Miss Doubtful, give your con- 
tribution and make one family, at least, happy 


FULFILLING THE LAW. II3 

for Christmas,” and Fay held the basket before 
her. 

“ I think we can safely follow where Lucy 
and Dorothy lead,” said Nellie Wood. “ Re- 
member our remark a short time ago that there 
are thirty of us, and a little from each of us 
would make quite a sum for them,” and step- 
ping forward she dropped a dollar into the 
basket. 

“ Dorothy must disburse your bounty,” said 
Lucy. 

It won’t do to say Dorothy ’s a anything, I 
suppose,” said Fay, handing the basket to Lucy, 
“ but we constitute you both a committee of two 
to carry rejoicing to the Sherman hearts, big 
and little.” 

Lucy took the picture and basket and ran 
gaily up stairs. “ Look, Dorothy,” she said, 
emptying the contents of the basket on the ta- 
ble. “ Count it.” 

“ Fifteen dollars and seventy-five cents,” re- 
ported Dorothy wonderingly. 

‘‘It is for the Shermans, and is all the result 
of your kindness to them, aided by your beauti- 
ful picture,” and Lucy told how the money was 
collected. 

“ Do you remember what Mrs. Stowe makes 
Andy say, ‘ I guess if I had n’t helped your bob- 
servation dis mornin’, yer wouldn’t have seen 
8 


1 14 LUCY broad’s choice. 

yer way so smart.’ Now I will reverse the sen- 
timent and say, if you had not helped, all my 
efforts would have been in vain.” 

“ ‘ I think lots of yer,’ Dorothy ; ‘ and I do n’t 
feel no ways ashamed to take ideas from you. 
We ough tenter overlook nobody, ’cause the 
smartest on us gets tripped up sometimes,’ ” 
quoted Lucy gaily. 

“And we must find time to spend it for them 
and send the things Christmas eve. I wish we 
could be there and see them when they are 
delivered ; but I must hurry now and do my 
packing, for I see my purchases have been de- 
livered and turning to the table she began to 
remove the wrappers from sundry parcels. 

“ See,” she commented, I bought the ‘ Stan- 
dard Dictionary ’ for papa, and this set of books 
for dear old Will, and this for darling Hazel,” 
and she held up a large doll beautifully 
dressed. 

Dorothy looked and admired without a 
thought of envy as she compared them with 
the few trifles she was to send home : a cro- 
cheted shawl for her mother, some embroidered 
handkerchiefs for her father, a portfolio of wa- 
ter-colors of her own painting for Herman, and 
scrap-books for her brother and sister. 

Lucy continued unwrapping articles, hum- 
ming a little song at the same time. Dorothy 


FULFILLING THE LAW. II5 

watched her, a shadow creeping over her own 
face. 

These are for my friends in Oakhurst ; I 
shall put them all in one box,” and kneeling be- 
fore a large wooden case she commenced pack- 
ing them. 

“ You have not shown me anything for your 
mother,” said Dorothy at length very gently. 

“ For whom ?” said Lucy sharply, stopping 
her work and turning partly round. 

“ Your mother.” 

“ I have none.” Lucy’s tone was very cold. 

“ Mrs. Broad is your father’s wife, and as 
such is entitled to your love and respect. I am 
afraid, Lucy, you are not fulfilling the law.” 

“ What do you mean ?” said Lucy rising, still 
holding a wrapping-paper in her hand. “She 
is my father’s wife, more ’s — ” but she did not 
finish the sentence. She must speak no word 
that would seem to reproach her noble Chris- 
tian father ; so she substituted for the unspoken 
thought, “ she is too frivolous to be congenial 
in any way to me.” 

“ Dear Lucy, have you ever tried to make 
her congenial ? or have you — ” Dorothy paused. 

“Go on,” and the brown eyes looked steadily 
at the speaker. 

“ Have you not had sometimes the feeling 
that you were superior to her, and that she must 


Il6 LUCY broad’s choice. 

come up to your standard before you would 
even make an effort to love her?” 

Lucy could never tell why she was not an- 
gry nor why she had no reply ready. She stood 
silent, a most unusual thing for her, and Doro- 
thy continued : 

'‘You remember the agreement we made 
last Sunday evening; is this not one of the 
‘ every things,’ and are you pleasing the One who 
said that ‘ Love is the fulfilling of the law ?’ ” 

Lucy sat down in the nearest chair, still 
holding the paper. “Can I compel myself to 
love any one ?” 

“ You can try, and there is One who has 
promised to give help in time of need ; he 
never told us to do an impossible thing, and we 
are commanded to love our enemies. Would 
you not have felt the same towards any one who 
occupied your own dear mother’s place ? and is 
Mrs, Broad to blame for accepting such a posi- 
tion ?” 

Lucy crossed the room and stood before the 
window where she had stood so long only three 
evenings before. She never promised anything 
hastily, but with all her self-will she was not 
obstinate. Over and over she repeated to her- 
self, “ Love is the fulfilling of the law,” then 
thought took more definite form, and turning 
around, she said, 


FULFILLING THE LAW. II7 

“ Dorothy, I cannot yet fulfil the law in my 
heart, but I will do it outwardly.” And the 
result was that the next day there was added to 
the box a tiny package. 

“ Now, Dorothy, are you not satisfied,” she 
exclaimed when that person had admired the 
beautiful ring of opals and diamonds ; “ what 
more ?” 

“ You have written on your father’s package, 
‘ For my dear papa, from his loving daughter,’ 
and this card says, ‘ Mrs. Broad, from Lucy.’ ” 

Lucy took it from her and there was a fierce 
struggle in her mind, and again the words 
which had caused the purchase of the ring came 
to her assistance. She threw the card aside and 
taking another wrote,“ Mamma, with best wishes 
for a merry Christmas.” ‘‘ Do not think I am 
happy over it,” she said, the tears rolling down 
her cheek, for I am not : my whole being re- 
bels against it ; but I promised to fulfil the law 
outwardly. And now,” she added hurriedly, 
seeing that Dorothy was about to speak, “ I 
have a favor to ask of you. I have one friend 
for whom I cannot find a single thing that I 
wish,” and she described Miss Curtis’ cheerless 
parlor. I want a picture for her, but those at 
Burk’s are not pleasing to me. Do you suppose 
you could find time to paint another like the 
one you are going to give to Mrs, Templeton ? 


Il8 LUCY broad’s choice. 

I had laid aside ten dollars for this purchase ; 
but that is not enough for such a work of art as 
yours. I intended to send the box to-morrow, 
but I could delay it a day or two.” 

The color rushed to Dorothy’s cheeks and 
the tears to her eyes. 

“ Oh, Lucy !” she exclaimed, “all I care for is 
one dollar for Mrs. Templeton. I cannot bear 
to have the girls think I am penurious. Take 
it and welcome.” 

“ Dorothy Colburn, you are an artist and 
you know that picture is worth a great deal 
more than I offer you, and I feel under great 
obligations to you for accommodating me.” And 
Lucy did not tell her, as she forced the money 
into her hand, that she did not offer her more 
for fear of wounding her pride. And Dorothy 
took one dollar of it and carried it immediately 
to Helen. And Lucy was pleased, the following 
Sunday, to see that a new pair of gloves had 
taken the place of the shabby brown ones. 


hazel’s gift. 


II9 


CHAPTER VII. 

HAZEL'S GIFT. 

A FEW days after the missionary meeting 
which meant so much to Lucy, Mrs. Broad sat 
in her luxurious parlor talking with Mrs. Clarke. 
She held an open letter in her hand from which 
she had evidently been reading aloud. Tears 
stood in Mrs. Clarke’s eyes and her voice trem- 
bled as she said, “ Dear Lucy ! I know it must 
have cost her a great struggle to be willing to 
give her mother’s things to any one. I think 
she is growing in grace. She has a great deal 
of latent power which I hope her school influ- 
ences will direct in the right channel.” 

“ She has power enough,” replied Mrs. Broad, 
recalling the many conflicts of will she had en- 
countered with her step-daughter. “ I hope she 
will learn to be very ladylike and accomplished.” 

“ She always was that,” and Mrs. Clarke 
sighed, thinking how useless it was to try to 
make her thought understood by one who al- 
lowed the frivolities of fashion to usurp every 
other feeling and purpose of life. 

I am sorry that I have nothing of Hazel’s 
to send,” continued Mrs. Broad ; “ but there are 
so many calls, and I try to give to all.” 


120 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


‘‘ Charity is needed everywhere. It makes 
my heart ache to think of the suffering among 
the people on the Western prairies. We in the 
East can hardly realize that two years’ drought 
could bring about such a state of affairs; but 
they are dependent on their crops for every- 
thing, and when these fail all else comes short. 
I have a cousin who lives ten miles from Mays- 
ville, Nebraska, and he wrote me that he went 
there to carry some articles to the needy, and in 
one house he found a little girl sitting with her 
feet tied up in rags to keep them warm.” 

Mrs. Broad shuddered. 

“ I am glad the missionary society of which 
Lucy wrote are going to send a barrel of flour 
to the minister’s family, although I do not sup- 
pose that they are as needy as that,” continued 
Mrs. Clarke, “ but I know that ministers in those 
small prairie towns often come short of things 
to make themselves comfortable. The need is 
imperative everywhere, and as your cold pre- 
vented you from attending church yesterday, I 
called to see if you will send what you can to 
the parsonage to-day, as we wish the barrel to 
go to-morrow.” 

Mrs. Broad assented as she arose to accom- 
pany her guest to the hall, and the great room 
seemed empty. 

Neither lady knew that behind the heavy 


hazel’s gift. 


I2I 


drapery sat usually merry, little Hazel with her 
eyes wide open, while from their brown depths 
great crystal tears were dropping. She sprang 
up as the door closed, and ran quickly across the 
hall, and holding her doll tightly with both 
chubby hands, ascended the stairs, putting one 
little foot at a time on each step and lifting the 
other after it. Going into her own room she 
sat her doll in a chair, exclaiming, “ There, 
Susie May ! did you ever hear anything so dref- 
ful? An’ she said we must hurry, an’ nobody 
thinks to ask little dirls, and I ’s so sorry,” and 
she brushed away the tears. 

“ Now you jes’ wait a minute while I finks 
and she stood silent for that time, then resum- 
ing her conversation with Susie May, who never 
offered any objections, said, “ The fustest thing 
is something to put ’em in,” v;ith which some- 
what ambiguous expression she turned to the 
closet and opened the door. A very small trunk 
standing in one corner caught her eye. “ That 
will do !” she exclaimed triumphantly, and pro- 
ceeded to empty it, and taking it by the handle 
dragged it into the room. 

“ Now, Susie May, the next thing is shoes 
and stockings. How would yon feel if you 
had n’t any ?” 

Susie May looked steadily out of her glass 
eyes, evidently considering the situation, while 


122 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


her little mistress opened bureau drawers and 
transferred shoes, stockings, and underwear to 
the trunk, pushing them into as small a space 
as possible. She stood contemplating her work 
with much satisfaction, and then proceeded to 
enlighten Susie May as to what she must do 
next. 

‘‘ Course she ’ll need some dwesses,” and she 
went into the closet once more and looked 
around ; then with a sigh took down a soft crim- 
son cashmere. 

“I don’t want to send this,” she said; “I 
like it best, and it ’s newest. I wonder if this 
wouldn’t do? mamma said it wasn’t quite fit 
for me no more,” and she reached for a little 
plaid, whole but somewhat faded, and emerged 
from the closet, holding both and looking with 
longing eyes at the crimson cashmere, then 
shaking her curly head said, “ I ’m ’shamed of 
you, Susie May ! How would you like it if you 
had n’t any pretty dresses and somebody should 
send you a old faded one?” and she added both 
dresses to the contents of the trunk. 

Now slie must have a cloak, but I mustn’t 
send her my bestist one, ’cause mamma said it 
was very spensive an’ I must be tareful of it; 
but if I give her my every-day one how is I 
doin’ to the ’spress office ?” She looked in per- 
plexity at Susie May, who never helped her out 


hazel’s gift. 


123 


of difficulties ; then her face lighted with dimp- 
ling smiles as she said, “ How stupid you is, 
Susie May ! Do n’t you see I can wear my best- 
est one,” and as Susie May offered no objections 
the cloak followed the dresses. 

“ Now she must have a hat;” but the broad- 
brimmed beaver, with its drooping plumes, pos- 
itively refused to go into the trunk. 

I s’pose I could fold it,” she said, looking 
at it reflectively, '‘but it wouldn’t look pretty,” 
and so she substituted a little chinchilla hood. 

“ Now, Susie May, she must have a muff, 
’cause, you see,, ’t would be drefful if she had to 
have her hands tied up in rags too,” and the 
white fur muff took its place beside the hood. 
And now the trunk positively refused to hold 
any more, and Hazel tugged and pulled, bruis- 
ing her dear little fingers to no purpose. Sud- 
denly a bright thought struck her. “ I know,” 
she exclaimed, “Jerry stood on Lucy’s,” and 
suiting action to word, she stepped up and the 
cover shut with a snap, and a flushed and tri- 
umphant little maiden came down, and donning 
the delicate fur-trimmed silk cloak and plumed 
hat, seized the trunk by the handle and dragged 
it out of the room to the back stairs, and push- 
ing it down one step, followed it stair by stair 
as it bumped its way to the bottom. 

Her sled stood by the back door, but when 


124 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


she attempted to push the trunk from the piazza 
upon it, it slipped away, leaving the trunk bal- 
ancing on the step. But Hazel had not pro- 
ceeded so far to be daunted now, so pushing the 
sled back, she lay down upon it and pulled the 
trunk towards her, retreating herself as the 
trunk advanced. 

Mrs. Broad was busy with another caller and 
supposed that Hazel was with Rose, and Rose 
was in the sewing-room sure that her charge was 
safe with her step-mother, so no one saw the 
little girl as she went out of the yard drawing 
the sled after her. She went slowly down the 
broad street, now full of gay teams, for it was 
the fashionable hour, and the air was filled with 
the sound of merry voices and the music of sil- 
very sleigh-bells. People looked at her curious- 
ly, but she paid no attention to them. 

“ I wonder where the spress office is ?” she 
said to herself, not having Susie May to talk to. 
“ I think it must be over there,” and she started 
to cross the crowded street, taking no notice of 
the passing teams, until a big policeman caught 
her from under the heads of a pair of prancing 
horses. 

“ Hello !” he exclaimed, standing her on the 
sidewalk. “ What is your name ?” 

‘j Hazel, and sometimes naughty little girl,” 
she replied with dignity. 


hazel’s gift. 


125 

“ Well, I am afraid you are that now. What 
is your father’s name ?” 

“ Papa Broad.” 

“ Oh !” exclaimed her big friend, evidently 
enlightened. “ Where are you going ?” 

“ To the spress office ; and I must hurry,” 
she continued, catching up the sled rope. 

“You let me draw that,” said the man with 
the brass buttons. “ Here is the office,” he 
added after a moment, and pausing before a 
large building he took Hazel in one arm and 
the little sled in the other, and deposited both 
on the counter, exclaiming, “ Here, Jim ! here ’s 
a package for you !” 

Hazel drew her little figure up with great 
dignity, a look of resentment in her brown eyes 
at being thus summarily dealt with, as she said 
with great impressivenss, “ I is not to go.” 

“ What is all this ?” inquired Jim. 

“ I want you to send this trunk to the little 
girl that hasn’t any shoes and stottins ; an’ you 
must hurry, ’cause Mrs. Clarke said the need 
was sumfin drefful,” said Hazel, pausing at the 
memory of the long word which she could nei- 
ther remember nor understand. 

“ What does she mean ?” inquired the per- 
plexed agent. 

“I don’t know,” chuckled the policeman, 
“but I should English it something like this. 


126 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


This is Hazel Broad, Ernest Broad’s little girl, 
and she wants to send this trunk somewhere ; 
but I am afraid that she has run away with the 
things, and I don’t know but the wisest way 
would be for me to take her and the trunk 
home.” 

“ Oh, no,” exclaimed the express agent with 
an eye to business, her father’s good for the 
pay, and it ’s none of my hunt where she got it. 
Where do you want the trunk to go, little one?” 

Hazel had looked from one to the other dur- 
ing this ambiguous conversation, with perplexed 
face, which cleared at the concluding words of 
the express agent. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ send it to Tumbledown in 
a New basket.” 

The two men looked at each other, and then 
burst into a hearty laugh. 

Hazel stood with great dignity depicted in 
her face and attitude, and when the laugh had 
subsided, she added, “ it said so in the letter,” 
and she pulled from her pocket Lucy’s letter 
and handed it to the agent. 

Oh, I see !” he exclaimed, glancing at it, 
Tarry town, Nebraska.” 

Yes,” said Hazel, looking from one to the 
other, “ send it,” and matters being thus arranged 
to her evident satisfaction, her new friend took 
her down, and putting her on the sled, drew her 


hazel’s gift. 


127 


to the corner of the street, and watched her until 
she entered the walk which led to her father’s 
door. 

In the meantime the caller had gone, and 
Mrs. Broad went to the nursery, but no Hazel 
was there. She then called Rose and inquired 
for her. 

‘‘ Why, she was in de parlor,” replied Rose, 
looking frightened. 

They searched through the house, but no 
Hazel was to be found. 

"‘She must dun run away,” said Rose. 

“ I thought I had cured her of that,” and 
Mrs. Broad caught up a shawl and went to the 
door just in time to see a weary little figure com- 
ing into the yard. 

“ Where have you been ?” she inquired con- 
cisely. 

“ I ’s been to the spress office to carry some 
things to the little dirl I heard Mrs. Clarke tell. 
I was in the window.” 

Mrs. Broad understood. 

“What did you send?” she inquired, as she 
drew her into the house. 

Hazel gave an account of her generous pro- 
ceedings. 

“ The idea !” and Mrs. Broad took hold of her 
not very gently ; “ do n’t you know any better ? 
I shall tell your papa.” 


128 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ What is it ?” said Mr. Broad, opening the 
door just in time to catch the last words. 

His wife told him the story of the afternoon 
with expressions not in keeping with the sweet- 
ness of her tone. Poor, tired, little Hazel stood 
by with quivering lip and drooping figure, until 
her father took her in his arms and seating him- 
self in an easy chair said, “It was very kind 
for my little Hazel to think of the poor little 
girl who had nothing, and I hope the trunk will 
reach her all right ; but next time you wish to 
send anything I think you had better ask papa 
or mamma about it,” and tired Hazel nestled in 
the enfolding arms of this wise father, and was 
soon fast asleep. 

“ Is that all you are going to say to her for 
disposing of thirty or forty dollars’ worth of 
things in that way ?” inquired Mrs. Broad. “ I 
think she should be taught better.” 

“ I will try and explain the matter to her 
to-morrow, but I must use great wisdom and not 
crush the generous impulses of a heart so ready 
to respond to the sufferings of others.” 

And with this reply, although far from satis- 
fied, Mrs. Broad was obliged to content herself, 
* * * 

Lucy’s box went safely to Oakhurst, and Mrs. 
Broad placed the ring on her finger very com- 
placently, remarking, “ Lucy has most excellent 


hazel’s gift. 


129 


taste,” but Mr. Broad had read deeper than the 
words which accompanied it, and knew what a 
struggle it had cost the proud rebellious heart to 
write them, and appreciated the words more than 
the gift. 

In the gathering twilight of Christmas eve 
Lucy met with the other pupils in the spacious 
drawing-room, and hearts were light, and gay 
laughter filled the air, and kind words were 
spoken, and many beautiful remembrances were 
received and given. 

And at the same hour Dannie Sherman, 
standing disconsolately by the window, and 
looking through it beyond the lane to the twink- 
ling lights of the main street, said, '' I suppose 
lots of folks are having good times, but it ai n’t 
you, Marjorie, and it ai n’t me. Say, ma, can’t 
we hang our stockings up ?” 

“Your stockings gone up?” repeated Mrs. 
Sherman, “well, I ’ll try and mend them.” 

Dannie repeated his request louder. 

“ Oh, yes ! you might hang them up, but no 
eight tiny reindeer will come down this way 
with a sleigh full of things to put in them.” 

“Well, here comes one big horse, any way,” 
said little Marjorie excitedly, jumping up and 
down as a coal cart stopped before the door, and 
the driver announced his arrival by a vigorous 
application of his whip-handle. 

9 


130 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Where ’ll I put this coal ?*' inquired the man. 

‘‘ I do n’t know, I am sure. Where it belongs, 
I suppose, which is not here.” 

“ Yes ’t is,” said the teamster, with a broad 
smile. 

“ Who said so ?” 

“ Santa Claus, I guess.” 

When Mrs. Sherman was finally convinced 
that the coal would be left there, she led the 
way to the tiny shed where Dannie followed, 
watching the shovelling process with great satis- 
faction until his little sister’s voice called, Oh, 
ma! here comes the “spress man,” and Dannie 
rushed round to the front door just in time 
to see a barrel of flour rolling into the house. 
Packages and bundles followed, which were de- 
posited on tables and chairs, Mrs. Sherman all 
the time protesting that they did not belong 
there. Seeing that she made no impression, she 
finally confronted the man, saying, 

“ Who sent those things here?” 

“ Folks up to the Seminary, I guess.” 

“ Folks up to the cemetery,” said Mrs. Sher- 
man, aghast. 

Might as well think so,” shouted the man in 
great glee. I can stop no longer,” and he 
made his exit laughing heartily,while Mrs. Sher- 
man sat down and looked around her in amaze- 
ment, and Dannie opened bundles and boxes. 


hazel’s gift. 


I3I 

“Tea, sugar, butter!” they shouted, “and 
dresses and clothes.” 

Mrs. Sherman finally regained her senses 
and came to the table. “ Hang up a whole row 
of stockings if you wish to,” she said, holding 
up a handful. “ They must be for us, for here 
is a note which says, ‘ For the Shermans, from 
Santa Claus.’ Well, somebody ’s been good. I 
think it must have started with that nice young 
lady. Surely the Lord does not forget.” 

Meanwhile the missionary barrel was reach- 
ing its destination, and way out on the western 
prairie the dull December day was drawing to a 
close, and the gray leaden sky seemed to have 
shrouded the little town in gloom. The street 
was deserted, but in the store a group of men 
were discussing the hard prospect before them. 

“ If I was one of those rich folks out East, 
I ’d send something to keep us hungry ones from 
starving.” 

“ Yes,” remarked another, “ the ministers ’ll 
stand up in their pulpits to-morrow in their 
slick broad-cloth suits and preach about charity, 
and here parson Grey hai n’t an overcoat to his 
back.” 

And “ parson Grey ” was full of sad thoughts 
as he stood in his little home, looking out of the 
window watching the shadows creep over the 
landscape. 


32 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


What shall I say to the people to-morrow ?” 
he said, thinking aloud. 

“ I know what Fd say,” spoke up twelve years 
old Harry. “ I ’d tell them if they could not 
give me salary enough to buy me an overcoat 
they need not expect me to go shivering down 
the street to preach to them in that cold tumble- 
down school-house. I ’d just bid them an affec- 
tionate adieu and go where we all could have 
something to wear.” 

Mr. Grey turned round with a little twinkle 
in his eyes, which for a moment chased the 
gloom away as he said, “ Where would you get 
the money to go to a land of overcoats ? I have 
not enough to pay for one mile of travel.” 

“ And can’t I go to Sunday-school any more ?” 
piped little Nellie. 

Her mother looked at her thin dress and 
shook her head. “Your cloak has gone with 
papa’s overcoat, beyond patching.” 

“ I wish some little ’dirl who has two would 
send me one, ’cause she can’t wear them both to 
once,” sighed this little philosopher. 

“ I think I see them doing it,” replied her 
brother contemptuously. “ I think they ’d feel 
a little more generous, if they had lived on mush 
and molasses for a month, and had their mother’s 
rubbers tied on their feet,” and he looked down 
at the offending foot-gear in great disdain. It ’s 


hazel’s gift. 


133 


no use for papa to preach to me about trust and 
such things. “ I ’d like to see it exemplified,” 
and having eased his mind and delivered the 
last word with great complacency, he turned 
away with the air of one who had settled the 
question for ever. 

I know it is hard,” said his gentle mother, 
to trust fully when cold and hungry, but I do 
believe that our Heavenly Father is kind and 
loving and always keeps his promises. You must 
remember we are only one side. He probably 
has a lesson for people who are living in afflu- 
ence, which perhaps they would learn in no 
other way.” 

‘‘I just wish I was the other side,” commented 
Harry. “ I ’d show ” 

“Oh, papa! what’s coming?” said Nellie, 
who had been standing by the window during 
this conversation. 

All crowded near her and watched a wagon 
coming down the road. 

“ I do believe it ’s coming here,” said Mr. 
Grey, as it drew nearer and nearer. 

“ Yes, it is ! it is I” cried Nellie excitedly, 
jumping up and down. As it stopped before 
the door a hearty voice called, “Good news, 
parson ! here ’s lots of something,” and he rolled 
a barrel into the room, and then, with a laugh, 
stood a little trunk on top of it. 


134 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


It says, ‘ For the minister’s little girl,’ ” he 
said, as he disappeared through the door. 

Do n’t you suppose the barrel is for the min- 
ister’s big boy ?” said Harry, as he hurried to 
the shed for a hammer. 

“Oh, do open the trunk! open it quick!’’ 
cried Nellie. 

Her father, with trembling hand, forced 
open the lock, and the child’s eyes grew wide 
with wonder as the beautiful garments were 
taken out. 

“ I can go to Sunday-school,” she exclaimed. 
“ Oh, is n’t she a nice little dirl to send me all 
these things ?” 

“ That ’s all right, sis,” said Harry, looking 
admiringly at the flushed face peeping from the 
chinchilla hood, “ but I feel somewhat interested 
in the minister’s boy,” and his strong young 
arm quickly unheaded the barrel — and such a 
display ! clothes for them all and fifty dollars 
in money. 

“ Hip, hip, hurrah !” shouted irrepressible 
Harry when the barrel was empty and the room 
piled full. “ Preach away, papa,” he continued, 
“ I ’ll take all you say and take back all I ’ve 
said.” 

The Christmas bells were ringing all over 
the land, and hearts were rejoicing and Christ- 
mas carols were sung, and paeans of praise were 


hazel’s gift. 


135 


ascending from many hearts, but Lucy never 
saw the tears of joy which filled Mrs. Grey’s 
eyes, as she took from the barrel a warm wrap- 
per, two woollen dresses, a heavy fur-trimmed 
cloak, and plenty of warm underclothing. But 
the mail brought her pleasant words from other 
sources, though none were more prized by Lucy 
than the following lines from Miss Curtis : — 

“ Oakhurst, Mass., Dec. 25, 1896. 

“ Miss Lucy Broad : What made you send 
me that picture ? I did n’t expect nothing from 
you. However, you sent it, and I am much 
obliged. I have looked at it and looked at it, 
and I think you must have sent it because you 
are a Christian. Folks have been lots kinder to 
me sinee you took me to drive that day. 

“ From your true friend, 

“ AMANDA CURTIS.” 

And the following Sunday, Nellie, in the 
crimson frock and warm cloak and hood, seated 
in the old .schodlhouse out on the western prarie, 
repeated, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall 
not want,” And dear little Hazel in the white 
cloak and wide hat, in her pleasant Sunday- 
school room, was saying, “ It is more blessed to 
give than to receive.” 


36 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MRS. PERLEY'S WAY. 

The days grew longer and the sun mounted 
higher, melting the snow by its genial beams, 
and the white lawns turned brown and then 
brightened into a soft emerald green. The shy 
violets peeped forth from their winter hiding 
places, and the pure anemones nodded in the 
soft breeze. The perfume of apple blossoms 
filled the air, then the flowers sprinkled their 
white petals like snowflakes on the ground, and 
when the days were longest the girls bade each 
other good-bye with pleasant anticipation of a 
happy summer and a joyous reunion in the 
autumn. 

Lucy was very glad to be at home once 
more, and resolved to do all in her power to 
overcome prejudice and dislike, and contribute 
her part to the general pleasure of the house- 
hold. 

Two or three weeks passed uneventfully and 
she was wondering what the plans for the sum- 
mer were to be, when, as she was waiting on 
the veranda one sunny morning for Sam to 
bring the phaeton to the door, her step-mother 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 


137 

coining through the hall, paused and said, “ How 
soon do you expect your cousin ?” 

‘‘ Next week, and I have invited my room- 
mate to make me a visit.” 

“ I have been thinking, as you have been 
from home nearly eight months, that perhaps 
you would like to spend your vacation here, and 
invite your most intimate friends to come with 
Amy and be with you for a few weeks.” 

Lucy reflected. Surely there could be no 
pleasanter place than Oakhurst, and she wished 
to be with her father, brother, and little sister all 
she could, and the former could not leave his 
business just then to accompany them on any 
extended trip. 

“ I think I should like it,” she replied after a 
few moments, “ and all the more as Harry will 
be here part of the time, and Will wrote me that 
he had invited one of his chums, a brother of 
Margaret Bradleigh.” 

And so it was arranged : invitations were 
sent and the following week brought Amy, Mar- 
garet, Sarah, Fay and Dorothy. 

Mrs. Broad was delighted with the first four, 
but looked somewhat doubtfully upon the latter, 
or rather upon her plain dress, for no one 
could find fault with Dorothy’s manners, Lucy 
watched jealously, determined that Dorothy 
should not be made to feel any difference in 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


138 

treatment, and an opportunity was given her 
before many days to assert her authority, which, 
if not performed in the wisest possible way, 
proved effective. 

She was standing on the veranda with Doro- 
thy one morning when Hazel ran out, and look- 
ing at her said, Why do n’t you stand on a 
c wicket ?” 

'‘Why?” asked Dorothy, smiling down upon 
her. 

“ Tause you must be little, though I can’t see 
but you is most as tall as Lucy ; but I s’pose 
Margaret must be ever so big, ’tause my mamma 
said you did n’t stand so high as Margaret ’tause 
she was the judge’s daughter and ’orful rich ; 
but I think you ’re ever so much nicer, and my 
papa said your father was a minister, an’ that 
was better than a judge ; an’ thought you was 
weal nice.” 

Poor Dorothy ! if it had not been for the last 
words she would not have spent another day at 
Oakhurst ; as it was, it was only consideration 
for Lucy’s feelings which induced her to remain. 

“ Run and tell Sam to harness Jessie, and we 
will take a little drive,” said Lucy. “ Get your 
hat, Dorothy, I will be back directly.” 

A pair of blazing eyes confronted Mrs. Broad 
a few moments later, and a voice, low with sup- 
pressed anger said, “ Mrs. Broad, you will do 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 


139 


well to remember that all these young ladies 
are my guests, but Dorothy is my special friend, 
and I insist that she shall be treated with the 
same courtesy that you extend to the others; 
and if you make another slighting remark about 
her while she remains in the house, I will dis- 
band the party and send every one of them 
home.” 

Mrs. Broad caught her breath. “My dear 
Lucy,” she commenced, but she had the room 
to herself, Lucy having disappeared with the 
last word. She had no occasion for farther com- 
plaint, for, however her step-mother felt toward 
Dorothy, she had evidently found her vocation 
and enjoyed it. She entertained well, and lawn 
parties, pic-nics and excursions followed each 
other in quick succession. 

Oakhurst had never seen so gay a summer. 
Roger Bradleigh filled the description which 
Amy had given of him. He was courteous and 
gentlemanly to all, but Mrs. Broad was de- 
lighted to see that he was evidently much 
pleased with Lucy, and not overjoyed when a 
little later Herman Colburn joined the party, to 
see that Lucy was just as cordial to him ; but 
she dared to give no hint of her feelings to any 
one, and the days slipped quickly away and the 
young gentlemen bade them good-bye, and be- 
fore long the girls would go to their homes for 


LUCY BROAD'S CHOICE. 


140 

a short time, before the commencement of the 
school term. 

“ I wish yon would all go to the special meet- 
ing of our ladies’ aid society this afternoon,” 
said Mrs. Broad at the dinner table one day ; and 
the girls, nothing loath, accompanied her. 

There was an unusual number of ladies 
present, as it was the first meeting of the season. 
“A full attendance is desired, as business of 
importance is to be transacted,” was the notice 
given, and most of the ladies were on the qiii 
vive to know what it was. 

They had not long to wait, for, after the 
opening exercises, Mrs. Mead, the president, 
said, ‘‘ The few members present at our meet- 
ing last June will remember that we decided 
that the church carpet could not possibly be 
made to last through the winter, and they will 
also remember that the treasury was very nearly 
empty. Now the condition of the carpet has 
not improved during the intervening months, 
nor the treasury been replenished, and it is to 
consider how we may meet this emergency that 
we are called together this afternoon.” 

“Why, that is easy enough,” said Mrs. Per- 
kins, the active member of the society. 

Several ladies looked up inquiringly. 

“Oh, get up a fair or a series of entertain- 
ments.” 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 14I 

Mrs. Clarke looked troubled, and waited anx- 
iously for some one to reply. 

'' Oh, Mrs. Perkins,” said Mrs. French, the 
progressive member, “ do let us have something 
new ; fairs and entertainments are too passL’' 

“ Fairs may be, but the word entertainments 
is very comprehensive,” replied Mrs. Perkins. 
“ Now we are so fortunate as to have several 
young ladies from the city with us, and I do 
not doubt but they can suggest something 
new.” 

All eyes were fixed upon the “ young ladies 
from the city,” and they in turn looked at Mar- 
garet, but as she remained silent, Amy finally 
said, “We gave a very successful entertainment 
at our church last year. It was a lawn party 
and bazar combined. The articles for sale were 
displayed in booths and tents, and the grounds 
were made very pretty and attractive.” 

“ How lovely !” exclaimed Kitty French, be- 
fore any one else could reply. “We could have 
a Gipsy tent, and tell fortunes, and have booths 
and represent different nations and trades. Oh, 
there is no end to it.” 

“ That ’s an axiom,” whispered Fay to Lucy, 
who smiled at her double meaning. 

Mrs. Clarke looked more troubled and moved 
uneasily. 

“ Do you think that would be just right for 


142 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

church members?” asked Miss Pray, hesitat- 
ingly. 

“ Why not, I should like to know inquired 
Florence Perkins, quickly. “ I can tell you one 
thing, if this church does not do something for 
the young people they will go somewhere else.” 

Several of the ladies nodded as much as to 
say, “ That is so.” 

“ Let me tell you a novel way which our 
church took to raise money for an organ,” said 
Mrs. Gordon Perley, who as she spent only the 
summers in Oakhurst, was not fully conversant 
with the ideas and ways of the people of that 
place, “ that is, novel for these times. We 
needed the organ very much, and after discus- 
sing ways and means for some time, unanimous- 
ly voted to try the Bible way and give according 
to our means ; and in one hour the needed sum 
was pledged, the ladies each giving from ten 
cents to much larger sums. 

The effect of these words, judging by the 
expression on the different faces, was varied. 
Mrs. Clarke looked hopeful, Mrs. Mead per- 
plexed, Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. French exchanged 
glances of disapproval, while Kitty French whis- 
pered an audible “ How horrid.” 

Finally Mrs. French said, “ That certainly 
was a very nice way for a city church, where 
people are able and willing to give, , but in the 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 


143 


country ” — she paused, hardly daring to bring 
the charge of penuriousness or the excuse of 
poverty against liberal and wealthy Oakhurst — 
“ well, you know it is different,” she added ; 

some people will not give unless we draw them 
to by some entertainment. Then I am sure 
that the church of which Miss Eliot is a mem- 
ber would employ no methods that were not 
just and right.” 

Mrs. French prided herself on her diplo- 
macy ; surely, who would feel like saying any- 
thing against Miss Eliot’s church when she was 
present to hear it? So the question was put 
and the majority of the ladies voted in the affirm- 
ative, most of those who espoused the negative 
side not voting at all. 

“ I have a bright thought,” said Mrs. Perkins, 
when the question was settled. “ The meeting- 
house needs painting, and it will cost fully two 
hundred and fifty dollars ; now we cannot expect 
to realize from our bazar more than the two 
hundred to pay for the carpet ; why not com- 
mission Mrs. Perley to try her way to raise 
enough for the painting?” 

Most of the ladies looked their astonish- 
ment at the audacity of the idea, and the pres- 
ident, speaking quickly, said, “You must re- 
member that Mrs. Perley is not a member of 
our church, although her kindness during the 


144 LUCY broad’s choice. 

months she is with us could not be greater if 
she were.” 

The color deepened in Mrs. Perley’s cheeks, 
and her voice trembled a little as she said, “ I 
suppose I ought to consider it a compliment 
that you think me able to accomplish alone 
more than the combined efforts of fifty or sixty 
ladies, especially as I shall have the disadvantage 
of laboring at an inopportune time, as every one 
will be urged to purchase tickets and contribute 
towards the lawn party ; however, I will try.” 

The expression on most faces was one of in- 
credulity, and then the matter was dropped as 
they eagerly discussed the best way to carry out 
their plan ; and when the society adjourned the 
committees were all appointed and the dates 
fixed for Wednesday and Thursday, the third 
and fourth of October. 

“ I would like very much to have you accom- 
pany me on my soliciting tour,” said Mrs. Per- 
ley to Mrs. Clarke as she bade her good-by at 
the close of the meeting. 

Now Mrs. Perley had planned to carry on 
two kinds of soliciting at the same time ; but 
Mrs. Clarke, thinking only of the one, was sur- 
prised, when a few days later she took her seat 
in the phaeton, to hear Mrs. Perley say, “Our 
ride will be a short one this time ; I am going 
to Mr. Sinclair’s.” 


’MRS. PERLEY’S way. 


145 


“ But you know he never gives anything. 
He does not even go to church.” Mrs. Clarke 
spoke hesitatingly, evidently feeling perplexed, 
but acquiesced, and they drove past the church, 
crossed the road and entered a winding way 
leading to a large house, whose grounds, even 
at this season of the year, showed that they were 
well cared for, while the whole place wore an 
air of thrift. 

Mrs. Clarke would greatly have preferred to 
remain in the phaeton, but she followed her 
companion up the broad steps and noted the 
shining door-plate as they waited an answer to 
the bell. 

The house-keeper opened the door. “ Yes, 
Mr. Sinclair is at home,” and she ushered them 
into a large snug room, plainly but comfortably 
furnished. The owner of the estate was seated 
in a leather-covered easy chair, reading the 
morning paper. He looked up as the ladies 
entered and gave them rather a doubtful wel- 
come, glancing at them uneasily. Mrs. Clarke 
took a seat near the window, maintaining a per- 
plexed silence, after the first greeting, but Mrs. 
Perley chatted pleasantly, apparently as much 
at home as though she were in the habit of call- 
ing often. 

What a fine place you have, and how well 
you keep it,” she said. 

10 


146 LUCY broad’s choice. 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Sinclair, rubbing his 
hands together nervously ; “it pays. Costs 
twice as much to repair a place after it is all 
run down, and I have to economize. I look 
after things myself closely. Now just see that 
meeting-house yonder. It will cost as much 
again to paint it now as it would a year ago. I 
think it is a shame for people to neglect things 
so. Here I keep my property up so that if I 
have occasion to sell it, and I do not know how 
soon I may, it will bring a good price. But 
what does it amount to when right before my 
windows things are allowed to go to rack and 
ruin ? It is really a damage to my property.” 

“ That is one of the things I called to see you 
about,” replied Mrs. Perley briskly, while Mrs. 
Clarke looked intently out of the window to 
hide a smile. “ I was not aware that you could 
see the church so plainly from your windows. 
It presents quite a contrast to your well-painted 
house. So you think it would add to the value 
of your property if it were in good repair ?” 

“ Of course I do ! but then people who call 
themselves Christians are too stingy with their 
money to spend any of it that way. Much they 
care about me or my interests.” 

Mrs. Clarke opened her lips as though to re- 
ply, but closed them again, wisely concluding to 
leave the whole matter with Mrs. Perley. The 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 


147 


latter noticed the bitterness of tone with which 
Mr. Sinclair uttered the words, and replied 
cheerily, 

Oh, I do not think it is the fault of Chris- 
tian people at all. You know the church was 
painted only two or three years ago, but unfor- 
tunately the one to whom the contract was given 
was not a Christian, and he used poor material 
and the paint is all scaling off. The ladies, who 
feel that there is not a great deal that they can 
do practically, have taken it upon themselves to 
raise the money to put the building in good 
order, and I thought perhaps you might con- 
tribute for the object.” 

“ replied Mr. Sinclair, starting ; “I have 
no money to spare for others. It is all I can do 
to make both ends meet and lay by a little for a 
rainy day. Besides, why should I give any- 
thing ? I never trouble the people ; I have not 
been inside the church door for years.” 

Gentle Mrs. Clarke, knowing that this man 
was possessed of great wealth, and being igno- 
rant of the fact that deceit usually accompanies 
extreme penuriousness, was indignant at this 
statement ; but Mrs. Perley had found the op- 
portunity for which she came, and dropping all 
thought of financial affairs, gave him a hearty 
and earnest invitation to attend church service. 

‘‘ Not I,” he replied ; “ I know too much for 


148 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


that. A person cannot be there ten minutes 
without having a contribution-box thrust in his 
face.” 

“ But no one need put anything in.” 

Then they will tell how mean you are.” 

“ Oh, no,” replied Mrs. Perley ; “ the seats 
are all free ; some do not give, and they are just 
as welcome.” 

“ That will do for you to say. Then the 
minister is always begging for the poor, or the 
heathen, or somebody else.” 

Mrs. Clarke’s cheeks crimsoned but Mrs. 
Perley seemed in no wise disturbed. 

“ Would you like to make a good investment, 
Mr. Sinclair?” she inquired. 

The gentleman looked interested, but his 
tone was gloomy as he said, “ Yes, if I could 
find one.” 

Mrs. Clarke did not ask him where the money 
was coming from, as she was strongly tempted 
to do. 

“ I will tell you of one,” continued Mrs. Per- 
ley, “ which always pays the highest rate of in- 
terest. ‘ He that giveth to the poor lendeth to 
the Lord.’ ” 

Mr. Sinclair stared at the speaker. “ Folks 
need not be poor if they would do as I do.” 

The next question seemed entirely foreign 
to the subject. 


MRS. PERLEY'S WAY. 


149 


“ When yon went to Europe a few years 
ago you provided yourself with a passport, did 
you not ?” 

“ Yes ; and it cost me several dollars ; it is a 
humbug and a swindle. Whose business is it 
where I go ? I went the journey cheap, though ; 
second-class passage and second-rate hotels, and 
I made it pay. 

“Is your passport ready for the other jour- 
ney ?“ 

“ What other journey ? I am not going any- 
where. Contrive as you will, travelling costs.” 

“ Ah, yes ! but the passport for this journey 
is free. The ticket for the whole distance is a 
gift too.” 

Mr. Sinclair looked incredulous. 

“You know we are all pilgrims,” continued 
Mrs. Perley quietly. “We are journeying to- 
wards another world, and we cannot enter the 
heavenly city without a passport.” 

“ Oh, you mean we have got to die and go to 
heaven.” 

“ The first, yes. The second depends upon 
the passport.” 

Mr. Sinclair looked at her as though he 
thought she was daft, and involuntarily moved 
his chair a little farther from her vicinity. 

“ You were in the habit of attending church 
once, were you not ?” 


150 LUCY broad’s choice. 

Mrs. Parley took no notice of his uneasiness. 

“ When I was a little boy, yes;” and he called 
to mind the Sabbath stillness and the walks 
along the country road, and seemed to hear the 
sound of the church bells in the distance and 
near by. His mother was a Christian, and he 
had promised to meet her in the city of which 
he had just heard ; but as the years went by he 
had made gold his idol, and had grown cold and 
hard. What business was it to the little woman 
whether he went to church or not? Yes, he 
knew ; she wanted his money. Well, she should 
not have it. 

And in this same little woman’s heart was a 
great longing for this man’s soul, and rising with 
tears in her eyes she said, “ My dear sir, won’t 
you join us in the pilgrimage?” 

‘‘ I ’ve been here nigh on to thirty years,” 
he replied, “ and no one ever asked me such a 
question before. They all come when they 
want money, and that ’s all they care.” 

“ Oh, no,” the tears still stood in Mrs. Per- 
ley’s eyes and there was a tremble in her voice ; 
“ we do care very much. I know but little about 
your possessions in this world, but are you rich 
towards God ? Is your treasure laid up in heav- 
en, where “ Neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, 
and where thieves do not break through nor 
steal? For where your treasure is there will 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 151 

your heart be also.’ A rich man was buried a 
while ago, and some one asked how much he 
left. ‘ Left it all was the reply ; and we must 
all part with what we hold most dear ; but if 
our peace is made with God we have the best 
of all gifts, eternal life. Won’t you come to 
church and hear about this great gift ?” 

Mr. Sinclair’s face had seemed to grow grey 
and frightened as she spoke. “ I ’ll make no 
promises,” he said, but he stood by the window 
a long time after the phaeton was out of sight, 
and, “ Left it all,” and, “ The gift of God is eter- 
nal life,” sounded through his mind again and 
again. 

Tears were in Mrs. Clarke’s eyes as she said, 
“ You have taught me a lesson. I feel thorough- 
ly condemned to think that I have lived so near 
that man all these years and have never said a 
word to him about the things of eternity.” 

“ Perhaps it was my mission,” replied Mrs. 
Perley, “ and no good may result.” 

Only the great unknown will tell — and now 
where ?” 

To Mr. Johnson’s.” 

“ Albert Johnson’s !” 

Yes.” 

Mrs. Clarke turned and looked into her corn- 
companion’s face. “Do you know that Mr. 
Johnson is an infidel?” 


152 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“Yes! and I also know that his wife is a 
member of the church, and that she is afraid to 
attend, and that Mr. Johnson embraces every 
opportunity to denounce Christian people. I 
do not know that I have any message for him, 
and it is not at all likely that he will be at home 
at this hour, but I asked to be guided before I 
started this morning, and my thoughts have 
turned to these two places.” 

They found Mr. Johnson in the sitting-room, 
kept from business by a severe cold. They 
were welcomed and made comfortable, and after 
a few moments Mrs. Perley made known her 
errand. 

Mr. Johnson laughed good-naturedly. “ And 
did you really think that I would contribute for 
that object ?” he asked blandly. 

“ Why not ?” replid Mrs. Perley evasively. 

“ I do not believe in those things.” 

“ What, meeting-houses ?” 

“ I do not believe in meeting-houses nor peo- 
ple who frequent them.” 

Mrs. J ohnson looked troubled and Mrs. Clarke 
uneasy, but Mrs. Perley quietly rocked back and 
forth as she said, “ Take care ! that is a sweep- 
ing assertion. Won’t you except present com- 
pany ?” 

Mr. Johnson looked a little puzzled. He did 
not wish to be impolite but he would not retract. 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 


153 


“ I do n’t believe the Bible,” be replied, “ not 
a single word of it,” and he held his head de- 
fiantly as though ready to maintain his posi- 
tion against the world. If he expected his op- 
ponent to be shocked he was disappointed, for 
she did not change her expression in the least 
as she good-naturedly said, “ Oh, well, I might 
say that I did not believe the sun shone, but it 
would shine on just as surely, and warm the 
earth by its genial rays.” 

Mr. Johnson frowned. He had no reply 
ready, so attempted none. This delicate little 
woman was different from any person to whom 
he had repeated the same platitudes, until he 
knew about what each answer would be. 

“ You may make light of it if you wish,” and 
the frown seemed to have entered his voice, 
“ but I tell you I have been lied to and cheated 
more by those calling themselves Christians, 
than by other people who made no pretentions 
to be better than their neighbors.” 

“ You divide the world into two classes then. 
How would you have Christians different from 
others?” 

“ I would have them honest and truthful.” 

“ Does not the world require that of every 
one ? If I go into a store and purchase twenty 
yards of silk, I expect to receive twenty yards, 
and not nineteen and five-eighths, and do not 


154 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


stop to inquire whether the merchant is a Chris- 
tian or not.” 

Mrs. Johnson looked white and frightened, 
and Mrs. Clarke make an involuntary motion as 
though to hush the speaker, while Mr. John- 
son’s face grew dark with suppressed feeling of 
some kind; but Mrs. Perley continued in the 
same even tone, “ So you see you do not require 
enough of a Christian.” 

Mr. Johnson’s voice was husky as he asked, 
“ What is four idea of a Christian ?” 

The voice was very sweet and there was 
a tender look in the eyes as she said, “ A fol- 
lower of Christ in all things. Won’t you read 
his life and see if you can find anything but 
truth and love in it? You know he stood once 
and said, ‘ Which of you accuseth me of wrong 
and down through all these ages no one has 
been able to reply.” 

She rose as she concluded these words, when 
greatly to her surprise, Mr. Johnson took out 
his pocket-book and gave her ten dollars. She 
thanked him and added, “ God so loved the 
world that he gave His only begotten Son : that 
whosoever believeth on Him might not perish, 
but have everlasting life.” 

Not another word was spoken until the ladies 
were in the phaeton once more, and then Mrs. 
Clarke, in a voice which betrayed agitation said, 


MRS. PERLEY’S way. 


155 

“ How did you dare say what you did to Mr. 
Johnson ?” 

“ Why not ?” she inquired, and her tone de- 
noted surprise at the question. “ The message 
was not mine, you know. I have nothing to 
gain personally from this morning’s expedition.” 

Well,” replied Mrs. Clarke, drawing a long 
breath, “ I am glad you did say it, and I wish I 
had a little more of your courage.” 

Her companion did not see why much cour- 
age was needed, but her heart was too full of 
joy and praise to trouble about the question, and 
it was with a very happy countenance that she 
entered her own dining-room, a couple of hours 
later, after making a number of other calls, in 
each of which Mrs. Clarke had noticed that she 
spoke some words of Christian helpfulness. 

“ What success have you had ?” inquired 
her husband at the dinner-table, a few days 
later. 

“ Most excellent.” 

“Then you did not object to soliciting. 
Where did you go ?” 

She mentioned the different places and 
added, “ Most every one seemed willing to 
give.” 

Mr. Perley looked suprised at the first 
two names, which his wife observing said, “ I 
did not go to those two places for money spec- 


156 LUCY broad’s choice. 

ially, although I received some at Mr. John- 
son’s.” 

The family expressed surprise. 

“ How did it happen ?” inquired her husband, 
and he listened interestedly to the account of 
her visit there. 

You did not say that T he exclaimed, dis- 
may in his tone. 

What dreadful thing have I done?” she 
inquired. 

“ Did you tell Mr. Johnson that about the 
silk ?” 

“ What? that I expected to receive twenty 
yards and not nineteen and a half? Yes, 
why ?” 

Her husband looked at her, soberly at first, 
and then with a laugh said, “ I think the commu- 
nity will send you a note of thanks when they 
hear of it;” and in answer to her perplexed look 
added, “ do n’t you know that it is Mr. Johnson’s 
custom to deal in that way ?” 

Mrs. Perley laid down her fork and looked 
at her husband in consternation. “ Gordon, 
what shall I do?” she said in a troubled tone. 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Well, I think perhaps that will be the wisest 
course,” and she recalled her reply to Mrs. Clarke, 
that it was not her message. 

Why do people patronize him ?” she asked. 


MRS. perley's way. 15/ 

“ Because he keeps rare and nice goods which 
can be bought nowhere else in the city.” 

“ Well, my mission is ended. I hope I 
have accomplished some good. I certainly have 
collected the two hundred and fifty dollars.” 

Yes, and she had done much more than 
that, for the words spoken that morning were 
like good seed, and they sprang up and bore 
fruit after a season, which resulted in both Mr. 
Sinclair and Mr. Johnson attending church. 


58 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER IX. 

PROFIT AND LOSS. 

The morning of the third dawned clear and 
fair. Not a cloud obscured the deep blue of the 
sky. The maple trees were bright with tints 
of gold, olive, and crimson. The purple asters 
by the wayside nodded to each other as the 
light breeze gently touched them ; the air was 
filled with insect music, and the fallen leaves 
rustled under the tread of hurrying feet. 

The grounds around the parsonage presented 
a lively scene as tents were put up and draped, 
booths erected and trimmed, Chinese lanterns 
hung in all available places, and works of fancy 
and of art unpacked and arranged. 

At the same time Miss Curtis walked by on 
her way to Miss Fray’s. She found her at home, 
standing by the kitchen table, pressing out the 
strings to her best bonnet in honor of the event 
of the day. She suspended her employment 
long enough to make her friend welcome, hold- 
ing her flat-iron poised over the ribbon, and 
looking up with a smile as innocent as a child’s. 

Miss Curtis was evidently greatly exercised 
about something. She had walked so rapidly 


PROFIT AND LOSS. 


59 


that she was too much out of breath to speak at 
first. “You may be sure that something is not 
to Miss Curtis’ taste when you see her rushing 
for Miss Fray’s,” Mrs. Perkins had remarked to 
a friend on one of the occasions when Miss 
Curtis had passed them with a nod, in too much 
haste to stop for farther greeting. 

“Will you tell me what’s going on up at the 
parsonage?” she asked, as soon as she could 
speak. “ I should think pandemonia, or what- 
ever her name is, had opened her box there.” 

“ So you have got home — ” 

“Of course I have,” severely, “else how should 
I be here ? I should think they ’d turned the town 
upside down since I ’ve been away. Everybody 
is over on the parsonage ground, and Joe Pet- 
tigrew is putting up tents. I stopped a minute, 
and said, ‘ What be you going to do with them 
tents ?’ ‘ Put ’em up,’ says he. ‘ And then what 
be you going to do with ’em ?’ said I. ‘ Take 
’em down again, ma’am,’ said he, and then he 
give that horrible grin of his and I was too pro- 
voked to ask him a single question more. Now 
will you tell me what they are for ?” 

“ Why, that ’s for the new carpet. 

“ What 's for the new carpet, the tents ?” 

“ Why, no ; but they are going to sell things 
in them, and take the money they get and buy 
a carpet.” 


l6o LUCY broad’s choice. 

Miss Curtis rocked slowly back and forth 
considering the idea. 

“ In other words, instead of giving a yard or 
so of carpet as you are able, you buy a ticket 
and go there and eat ice-cream and salads and 
make yourself sick, and buy lots of things you 
do n’t want, or else wait until the last evening 
and buy things you do want for half what they 
cost, because they mustn’t be left over, and 
then flatter yourself that you ’ve done a good 
thing and been very generous, and contributed 
liberally towards the new carpet.” 

“ Why, Miss Curtis, how you do talk ! I wish 
they would raise the money some other way, 
and so do quite a number of the ladies, but they 
do not dare to say so ; and some of the young 
people say they will go to some other church if 
we do not have such things.” 

“ Let ’em go ; they ’ll probably get just as 
sound preaching, and I don’t see why the ladies 
who do n’t want such things should be any more 
afraid to express their opinions than them that 
do. Be you going ?” 

“ Why, yes,” hesitatingly ; “ I would not like 
to hurt their feelings.” 

“ Do n’t you suppose they ’d feel very much 
hurt if I did n’t go ? However, I believe I will 
go, just to see how they come out. So good-by 
till afternoon.” 


PROFIT AND LOSS. 


l6l 


“ Where are Miss Bradleigh, Miss Bennet, 
and Amy ?” inquired Mr. Broad, looking around 
the lunch-table that day. 

“They are over on the parsonage ground 
helping prepare for the entertainment,” replied 
Lucy. 

“ And why are n’t the rest of you there ?” 

“I have just returned.” Mrs. Broad’s tone 
showed that something displeased her. 

“ Lucy ’n’ Dorothy ai n’t going. I heard 
them say so,” announced Hazel. 

“ Not going at all ?” Mr. Broad looked trou- 
bled, not at the fact that his daughter did not 
care to go, but for the controversy which he 
feared it would cause. 

“ We thought not,” said Lucy quietly. 

“ Really, Mr. Broad ” — his wife’s tone re- 
vealed nothing now — “ I hope you will use your 
authority and insist upon Lucy ’s going, for I 
fear her absence will cause comment, as there 
has been quite a little talk about the matter, as 
several of the ladies think it wrong to raise 
money in this way ; but for my own part I look 
upon it as a very harmless and pretty way of 
bringing the people socially together and rais- 
ing money at the same time.” 

“ Who objects ?” 

“ Mrs. Perley, Mrs. Clarke, Mrs. Davis, and 
several others.” 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


162 


“ Lucy certainly will be in good company 
with the ladies you have named, and I am not 
sure but I agree with them.” 

Mrs. Broad would not allow the vexation she 
felt to show itself, and was glad that her hus- 
band turned to Fay and asked if she were going. 

“ I have literally been on the fence all the 
morning,” replied that young lady. “ Do you 
remember that low post with the broad top un- 
der the maple-tree? Well, I sat there most of 
the forenoon watching operations on the lawn, 
feeling glad that your grounds joined those of 
the parsonage. At times I felt like dropping 
down on the other side, they seemed to be hav- 
ing such a good time, and then I remembered 
how Lucy, and Dorothy, and others felt, and 
thought I would descend on this side, and did 
so at the call of the lunch-bell.” 

“ Are you going to remain on this side ?” 

“No, I think I will go and test the pros and 
cons myself. 1 will keep a profit and loss ac- 
count.” 

And so the afternoon found Fay on the ba- 
zaar side of the fence with a little note-book in 
her hand. 

“ Where are Miss Colburn and Lucy ?” in- 
quired Mrs. French. “ Are n’t they coming ?” 

“ I think not.” 

“ Why?” 


PROFIT AND LOSS. 


163 


“ They are church members.” 

“ What has that to do with it ?” inquired 
Mrs. French, her astonishment showing in her 
tones. “ Are n’t a great many of the ladies who 
are here church members ?” 

“ I do not know. I have not looked on the 
church books,” replied Fay sweetly. 

The color deepened in Mrs. French’s cheeks. 
What did this fair young girl, looking at her so 
steadily from her deep hazel eyes, mean ? Was 
a reproach intended? Fay, with her dimples 
and her gravity, was a revelation to more peo- 
ple than the lady who stood before her with a 
new thought struggling into her mind. 

‘‘ What would you have church members 
do — wear a badge?” she inquired, with some- 
thing more than curiosity in her tone. 

“ By their fruits ye shall know them,” were 
the words which came at once to Fay’s mind, 
but she did not give them utterance. Instead 
she said, still seriously, “ As I am not a church 
member, perhaps I am not competent to reply, 
especially as there seems to be a difference of 
opinion among them on various subjects.” 

What could Mrs. French say in reply ? She 
began dimly to feel that something was wrong, 
and without stopping to consider, replied by 
blaming those who differed from her. 

“ I think if those who are so fussy would make 


164 LUCY broad’s choice. 

a little concession we should agree well enough ; 
but some folks are always sure they are right.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Fay demurely. 

Mrs. French was puzzled again, and tried to 
vindicate herself by adding, “ I think those who 
are staying away and opposing it are decidedly 
wrong,” and Fay, turning away, wrote in her 
little book under “ Loss,” “ Lack of charity.” 

Just then Mrs. Mead approached, accompan- 
ied by Kittie and Florence. 

“ I think it is just as mean as it can be !” the 
latter exclaimed ; “ you have given the art table, 
the very nicest of all, to Miss Bradleigh and 
Miss Eliot, and they do not belong here at all.” 

“ That is just the reason they should have 
it,” replied Mrs. Mead. “ I think they are very 
kind to assist us, and their taste is unexcep- 
tional. How beautiful their booth looks !” 

“ Well, we won’t tend the ice-cream table. 
We might at least have had a fancy-table ; but 
no ! they were all given to others, and the peo- 
ple may go without ice-cream for all our serving 
it to them.” 

“ Oh, dear ! Come with me and I will see 
what can be done,” and Mrs. Mead walked de- 
jectedly away, followed by the two girls, while 
Fay added, “Envy,” to what she had already 
written, and as no other arrangement could be 
made at that late hour, Florence and Kittie dis- 


PROFIT AND LOSS. 


165 

contentedly did what they had just declared 
they would not, tended the ice-cream table ; and 
“ Falsehood ” was added to Fay’s memorandum. 

“ Is it not lovely !” exclaimed a lady to Mrs. 
Broad, “ and what a nice time every one seems 
to be having and under the head of “ Profit ” 
in the little book was quickly written, A good 
time,” and written heartily too, for the after- 
noon passed very pleasantly to Fay. Every one 
had a kind word for her, for her piquancy and 
gentleness won all. 

The grounds were crowded in the evening, 
and the “profit” at the tables was unmistak- 
able. Fay thought her account was pretty 
evenly balanced, when she heard a young man 
exclaim, “ Come, Bert ! I ’m going home. I can’t 
stand this. I can’t go near a table but 1 am 
urged to buy articles that I have no use for and 
don’t even know the name of. I have spent 
over seven dollars, and here comes Minnie Ev- 
arts to urge me to vote for that china dinner set 
they are trying to buy for the minister ; come 
on !” and there were two vacant places at which 
Minnie stared blankly when she reached them. 

“ I think I must have some ice-cream after 
that demonstration,” said Fay to herself, and 
started for the tent where that commodity was 
for sale, writing in her book as she went, “ Un- 
willing giving.” 


66 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Just at the entrance of the tent stood Mrs. 
Perkins, engaged in an animated conversation 
with Mrs. Atherton. She was interrupted by 
the youngest Perkins heir, who, rushing impet- 
uously through the tent opening, exclaimed. 
Say, ma, your best dish is all broken to 
smash !” 

His mother turned quickly. “Not my cut- 
glass one !” 

“ I guess you ’d think it was cut !” and the 
young hopeful dodged the hand which was ex- 
tended, evidently for the purpose of detaining 
him long enough to hear the details of the mis- 
hap. 

Fay followed them into the tent, where Flor- 
ence stood by the table, ruefully looking at the 
pieces of glass, some of which she held in her 
hand. 

''Florence Perkins T exclaimed her mother, 
“ how could you be so careless ?” 

“ I did not do it,” replied Florence sorrow- 
fully. 

“ It must have been your fault,” Mrs. Per- 
kins spoke irately, “ or it would not have hap- 
pened. “ I declare,” with increasing injustice, 
“ I have a great mind to send you home.” 

“ I tell you I was not to blame,” said Florence 
truculently, all the regret gone from her voice ; 
“ some one hit it and knocked it from the table.” 


PROFIT AND LOSS. 1 6 / 

“ Of course you were to blame ; and that dish 
cost forty dollars.” 

“You don’t say! nobody would ever mis- 
trust it now,” and Ben Perkins chuckled and 
again dodged his mother’s outstretched hand. 

“ Ai n’t you a little hard on her ?” said Miss 
Curtis, who stood near. 

“ Oh, probably ; of course it is not hard on 
me to lose a forty-dollar dish !” 

“ Hard on the dish, I should say,” exclaimed 
Ben as he disappeared from the scene, and Fay 
wrote once more, “Unjust accusation” and 
“ Loss of property.” 

“Well, the first evening is drawing to a 
close,” said one of a group of young people look- 
ing admiringly around. “ How much pains the 
ladies have taken ; how lovely it is, and how 
kind of them and Fay made her last entry 
under “ Profit,” “ Good taste displayed ” and 
“ Kindness shown,” the last with a question- 
mark after it. 

There was an air of expectancy when the 
ladies met the following week to hear the result 
of the bazaar. The treasurer read the report 
with impressiveness and satisfaction. 

“ Whole amount of money taken, three hun- 
dred and eighty-three dollars and ninety-seven 
cents. Expenses, one hundred and eighty-three 
dollars and fifty cents.” 


1 68 LUCY broad’s choice. 

“ I call that doing wonderfully well,” said 
Mrs. Broad. 

“ So do I,” chimed several voices. 

“ Only think ! enough to buy the carpet and 
forty-seven cents left,” exclaimed Mrs. Perkins. 
“ But, my ! did n’t we work for it !” 

“A very profitable scheme,” said Mrs. French, 
the intonation of her voice implying, “ There, I 
told you so !’ 

Most of the ladies settled back in their chairs 
with an air of satisfaction and even of exulta- 
tion. A few looked serious, and after a mo- 
ment’s silence Mrs. Davis said very gently. 
Suppose we balance the profit and loss. The 
carpet actually cost three hundred and eighty- 
seven dollars and ninety-seven cents.” 

“ Oh, no ! we are only to pay two hundred.” 

Miss Curtis had silently listened to all the 
remarks, sewing rapidly at the same time. Now 
she sat with her work lying in her lap, her hand 
holding the needle, extended the length of the 
thread, and looking sharply over her glasses at 
the last speaker, said, '‘Well, Miss Perkins, I 
hai n’t got much learning, but I know that twice 
two makes four, and in this case it is so near it 
that the difference ain’t worth talking about. 
The members of this church and the people of 
this town have actually paid three hundred and 
eighty-three dollars and ninety-seven cents for 


PROFIT AND LOSS. 


169 

that carpet, when they need n’t have paid but 
two hundred for it, to say nothing of smashed 
dishes and general damage to private property 
and feelings.” 

Some of the ladies looked pleased at this 
plain statement, and the timid ones looked 
frightened, but most of them showed signs of 
disapproval, and Kitty French exclaimed crossly. 

“We had a good time anyway.” 

“ That ’s it,” retorted Miss Curtis. 

“ Is it not right to have a good time ?” in- 
quired Mrs. Broad, in her soft sweet tone.” 

“ That depends ! leastways I always thought 
it did. However, I suppose that ’s as you reckon 
good times. I do n’t have many of them, and I 
should not think I had had one if I had got all 
tired out earning two dollars when I might have 
had one given to me ;” and she resumed her 
sewing. 

“The young folks must have something to 
keep them interested,” said Mrs. French, and 
Fay thought of the ice-cream table, and remarked 
to Lucy that they seemed very much interested 
in that. 

“ And then, do n’t you see,” said Florence 
triumphantly, “ that we get something for our 
money?” 

“ But the Bible says that God loves a cheer- 
ful giver y' quoted Mrs. Clarke quietly. 


I/O LUCY broad’s choice. 

At this point the president called them to 
order, with the remark that there was one more 
report, at the same time motioning to Mrs. 
Perley. 

An indescribable rustle went through the 
room and all looked expectant. 

“Some of them are hoping for an adverse 
report and will be disappointed if they do not 
receive it ; and most of them expect a failure,” 
whispered Fay again. 

Mrs. Perley stepped to the table and quietly 
laid a roll of bills upon it. 

“ You do not mean that you have got the two 
hundred and fifty dollars ?” exclaimed Mrs. Per- 
kins, looking disappointed. 

“Just that amount,” replied Mrs. Perley, 
smiling gravely. “ I found almost every one 
quite interested and willing to give.” 

“ I am sure we owe Mrs. Perley a hearty vote 
of thanks for her great kindness,” said Mrs. 
Clarke. 

The motion was made and carried. 

At the same time Mr. Clarke sat in his study 
balancing the same account. 

The money was raised for the carpet and it 
was needed ; the people of the church and con- 
gregation had met socially, which was impor- 
tant ; the young people had been interested, 
which was desirable — in the right way; people 


PROFIT AND LOSS. 


i;i 

from outside had been “drawn in,” if they 
would only stay ; and every one had seemed to 
have a pleasant time. All this was profit. But 
the young people and many of the older ones 
had not been interested enough to attend the 
regular prayer-meeting on the following even- 
ing, as the vacant chairs testified. 

He had prepared the Sabbath sermon with 
unusual care, but as he had passed through the 
aisle at its close, no one said he had been helped 
by it. The chief disappointment did not lie in 
that fact, but he had hoped that the words 
would make some impression and crowd out the 
thoughts of the past week, but the remarks he 
caught proved that hope vain. 

“ I was so tired I could scarcely keep awake 
through the sermon,” said one ; “ I worked all 
day Saturday helping to clean up.” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Perkins was saying, “but just 
think of my beautiful cut-glass dish.” 

Sitting alone in his study and looking back 
over these facts, where should he strike the bal- 
ance ? Did these things tend to promote the 
spiritual welfare of the church ? He had prayed 
much for the coming season ; he would continue 
to do so ; pray and hope, and in God’s time and 
way all true prayer was sure of an answer. 


\J2 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER X. 

WHA T THE WORLD SA YS. 

The last anthem had been sung, the bene- 
diction pronounced, and mingling with the 
sweet music of the organ was a subdued mur- 
mur of many voices as the congregation stepped 
from their pews and exchanged pleasant greet- 
ings or gathered in little groups in the aisles. 
Miss Curtis and Miss Pray were the first to leave 
the church and walk slowly to the road. 

The trees were brilliant with their autumnal 
foliage which the warm sun seemed to turn to 
burnished gold ; the air was filled with nature’s 
music, and Miss Pray’s heart was singing with 
the feeling of joy and peace which the Sabbath 
stillness and the helpful words of the sermon 
had brought to her. 

“ I wonder what Miss Broad ’ll find to amuse 
herself with, now them highty-tighty girls and 
men is gone. Oakhurst has been pretty well 
nigh turned upside down the last two or three 
months.” 

“ I am sure the young ladies and young gen- 
tlemen were very nice,” replied Miss Pray, 
deprecatingly. 


WHAT THE WORLD SAYS. 


173 


“ Who said they were n’t ?” was the aggressive 
answer. “ However, that ’s as you count niceness. 
Lucy 's all right, and I ’m sorry that she ’s going 
to-morrow.” 

They had reached the gate where their ways 
divided, but Miss Curtis had evidently not freed 
her mind sufficiently, for she turned to the right 
and walked with her friend. As there was no 
response to her last remark, she continued : 

“Yes, Lucy’s a Christian and acts like one, 
and so does Dorothy ; she never forgets her- 
self nor does anything you could find fault 
with.” 

“ I presume that Dorothy would disagree 
with you, although I think she leads a lovely 
Christian life.” 

“ Well, that ’s mor ’n you can say of that Amy 
Eliot.” 

“ Perhaps she makes no profession.” 

“ Yes, she does too !” triumphantly, “ and she 
plays eards; I heard her apologizing to Sarah 
Bennett because they could n’t have whist par- 
ties. She said her uncle was very strict, but her 
aunt would n’t mind. And she danced over at 
Miss Kingsbury’s lawn party, while Lucy and 
Dorothy just would n’t, but went round and tried 
to make old disagreeable folks like me have a 
good time. I know there ai n't many as bad 
as I be, but these people who call themselves 


74 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Christians and are too stuck up to speak to me 
are to blame.” 

“ I am sure, Miss Curtis, you have been in- 
vited to almost everything there has been dur- 
ing the summer.” 

“ Do n’t you know how that happened ? ’t was 
all along of Lucy ; she would have it so. She 
set the example by inviting me herself. I 
rather guess she had a time about it with her 
step-mother though, for Hazel told me ‘ Lucy 
said ’twas her party and she should ’vite who 
she wished to, and if you turned here others 
would ’vite you too.’ ” 

“ Hazel has discernment in some directions,” 
replied Miss Pray, “ but I think she needs to use 
it in learning when to speak and when to re- 
main quiet.” 

‘‘If you think she didn’t use it right this 
time you’re mistaken. I don’t care a fig what 
Althea Broad says. I ’ve got her size, and she ’s 
one of your church members, too. Lucy ai n’t 
perfect, but she ’s trying to be ; and she ’s im- 
proved, and she ’s got a big heart.” 

“ Perhaps the others are trying to improve 
too.” 

“ Mebby they be,” replied Miss Curtis, sarcas- 
tically ; “ but they do n’t seem to be making 
much headway.” 

And now, gentle little Miss Pray did what 


WHAT THE WORLD SAYS. 1 75 

she had seldom been know to do before, showed 
visible signs of indignation, for she stopped 
walking and turning looked steadily at Miss 
Curtis, and said, “ Amanda Curtis, what is your 
idea of a Christian ? Do you expect perfection 
of them? If you know so well what it is to 
lead a perfect Christian life, why do n’t you set 
the example and show others how?” 

Miss Curtis looked over the top of her glasses 
in amazement at the little woman who con- 
fronted her, with such earnest remonstrance in 
the usually mild gray eyes. She seemed to be 
for the nonce an accusing spirit ; her whole atti- 
tude was one interrogation point : even the flow- 
ers on her bonnet were trembling with indigna- 
tion. 

“ Why, Sabrina Pray, what have I said to rile 
you up and make you take on so?” 

“ I am very sorry if I am riled, and I do n’t 
mean to take on, but I have a feeling of love 
for every member of my church, or of any 
other. They are my brothers and sisters, and I 
think if the dear Lord can put up with all 
my short-comings and sins I ought to overlook 
failings in others. You know the Bible says, 
‘Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with 
what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged 
and I cannot bear to see you bring condemna- 
tion on yourself,” and she laid her little gloved 


176 LUCY broad’s choice. 

hand on the black alpaca sleeve. “ My dear 
friend, you once thought you were a Christian ; 
have you given it all up ? Is there no duty for 
you to do ? We are commanded to believe in 
our hearts and confess with our mouths ; is not 
that your first duty? I read somewhere that 
if everybody would mend one, all would be 
mended, and I am sure it takes me all the time 
to look after and keep myself straight.” 

“ I did n’t know you could preach, but I be- 
lieve your sermon ’s done me more good than 
Mr. Clarke’s, and I ’ll go home and think it over,” 
and she turned and walked with her usual erect 
figure in the opposite direction. 

Meantime, in the church, the people were bid- 
ding Lucy “ good-bye,” and congratulating Mrs. 
Broad on the very successful manner in which 
she had contributed to the general pleasure of 
Oakhurst during the summer and autumnal 
weeks just ended. 

They had never passed so pleasant a sea- 
son, and they hoped for a repetition next 
year. 

“ Such nice young ladies and fine young gen- 
tlemen,” etc., etc. 

Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. French walked to- 
gether as usual, as their homes were in the same 
direction. 

“ I must say I am puzzled,” exclaimed the 


WHAT THE WORLD SAYS. 1 77 

latter when they had left the church-yard and 
were out of the hearing of people. 

“ Why, what about ?” inquired Mrs. Perkins, 
lightly. 

“ About the summer which every one seems 
to have found so pleasant.” 

“ What is the matter ? Have n’t you enjoyed 
it ?” Mrs. Perkins’ voice expressed surprise. 

“Yes, very much;” Mrs. French’s reply was 
prompt, “ but the puzzle comes in the ever- 
vexed question, how Christians are different 
from others.” 

And now Mrs. Perkins was thoroughly 
amazed. “ Why, what in the world has that to 
do with spending a pleasant summer?” 

“ Nothing — and everything. Excuse the 
paradox, but the first word will apply to you 
and me, who make no profession, and the sec- 
ond to those who are members of the church. 
I have thought seriously of becoming one of 
the latter, but when I have watched them, I 
have often failed to detect any difference be- 
tween the two.” 

“ That depends upon who it is. I am sure 
that Mrs. Clarke, Mrs. Perley, and several others 
are strict enough so that you can have no diffi- 
culty in placing them. They certainly are dis- 
agreeable enough sometimes.” 

“ That is just it ! they are called strict and 
12 


178 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


set, and Mrs. Broad and Mrs. Kingsbury are 
‘ just lovely.’ Now both parties cannot be right. 
I would like to join the church if I could keep 
on as I am now. But when I see any one like 
Lucy, who a year and a half ago was just like 
other girls, and now will not dance nor play 
cards, I think there is something deeper than I 
understand ; and yet no one thinks of calling 
Lucy a crank.” 

“ That is so,” returned Mrs. Perkins thought- 
fully. “ It never occurred to me before, but she 
does just as she likes and every one seems to 
think it is all right. But there is that dear little 
Fay; why is she not as good as Lucy, if she 
does play cards ? I am sure she is ever so much 
sweeter than Amy Eliot, and she is a church- 
member.” 

'‘Yes, but she plays cards.” 

“ Well, that does not make her disagreeable. 
I am sure, if I did not know, I should select 
Fay for the church-member every time. I tell 
you what, Mrs. French, I would not bother my- 
self about the matter. I do not see but you are 
as good as any one. There is one thing sure, 
Mrs. Ernest Broad played her cards well. The 
young ladies were not the only ones she was 
anxious to have spend the summer here. She 
is looking out for Lucy, and Roger Bradleigh is 
about right in her estimation.” 


WHAT THE WORLD SAYS. 1 79 

To this Mrs. French made no reply, but en- 
tered her gate more thoughtfully than usual. 

“It is not a question of goodness,” she said 
to herself. “ I have read my Bible and heard 
sermons enough to know that ; ^nd it is not 
what Lucy Broad or Faith Fairbanks is that I 
have to answer for, and it makes no difference 
what the world says ; that I really know. And 
yet it sometimes seems as though the world de- 
cided all these questions: but the Bible com- 
mands that we come out of the world and be 
separate from it, and it is not being separate 
to indulge in hurtful pleasures. I will watch 
Lucy and the other girls,” and Mrs. French en- 
tered the house without seeing her own incon- 
sistency. 

Mrs. Perkins, walking the few steps which 
separated Mrs. French’s home from her own, 
hoped Mrs. French was not going to be fussy 
and try to prevent Kittie from having a good 
time. For her part she intended Florence to 
enjoy herself. She could never be young but 
once, and she did not wish her to set herself up 
to be better than others, and have all the girls 
sneer at her — forgetting her own words about 
Lucy uttered but a few minutes before. 

Mrs. Broad, in her own room, leaned back 
in her comfortable easy-chair. Her pale blue 
wrapper was very becoming to her, and she felt 


l80 LUCY broad’s choice. 

complacent and happy. Mr. Broad’s reading 
was interrupted by her dulcet tone : 

How lonely we shall be ! what nice friends 
Lucy has.” 

“Yes,” as the world looks at it.” 

“ Why, my dear, what ails Dorothy Col- 
burn ?” 

Mr. Broad smiled, partly at the memory of 
Dorothy, who was a favorite with him, and part- 
ly at the diplomacy so ill-concealed. 

“ They are all very nice in their way. I wish 
they were all Christians.” 

“ Oh, I have no doubt but they will be : they 
are evenly divided now, three church-members 
and three who will be. I am so glad that Roger 
Bradleigh was pleased with Lucy. I think he 
is just perfection, and I only hope that Lucy 
will agree with me. They would make a splen- 
did couple.” 

Mr. Broad’s uneasiness culminated as he rose, 
and leaning his arm on the mantel looked down 
on the speaker, and his tone was very grave as 
he said, 

“ I hope, my dear, that you will never hint 
such a thing to Lucy, nor to any one else ;” and 
Mrs. Broad relapsed into amazed silence. 

* * * * * 

“ Seems to me, Amy, that you are not as 
much a favorite with the girls as Lucy is.” 


WHAT THE WORLD SAYS. l8l 

It was the day before Amy returned to 
school, and brother and sister were sitting in 
the library after their return from Sunday- 
school. 

What called forth that sage remark ?” 
said Amy, looking up from her book. 

“ Oh, I judge by some of the remarks I over- 
heard during my visit at Oakhurst.” 

“ I suppose I shall have to play the part of 
inquisitor, and draw forth your ideas by plying 
you with questions.” 

“ All right, as long as you do not use the 
thumb-screw or any other mode of torture,” and 
Harry laughed good-naturedly. 

“Well, do proceed!” Amy was becoming 
vexed. 

“ Here goes, then ! so prepare to have your 
delicate sensibilities deeply wounded. I over- 
heard Miss Curtis say — ” 

“ Much I care for her opinion ;” the sneer in 
Amy’s tone was unmistakable. 

“ That so ? I won’t tell you then.” 

“ Harry Eliot ! I think you are perfectly 
horrid.” 

“ That is about what Miss Curtis seemed to 
think of you. She remarked to that little friend 
of hers. Miss Pray, that she thought Amy Eliot 
was about as inconsistent a piece as she ever 
saw, and she thought you had better learn some- 


i 82 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


thing besides how to be disagreeable and bring 
disgrace on your profession the next time you 
went to school.” 

“ And I think she had better mind her own 
business,” exclaimed Amy with more acrimony 
than politeness. 

‘‘ H’m, well, I presume she thought she was 
doing that; but seriously, Amy, I overheard 
Mr. and Mrs. Clarke make about the same re- 
mark, only it was clothed in more elegant lan- 
guage.” 

“ Oh, of course they would find fault with 
anything that was nice : he is a minister,” inter- 
rupted Amy again. 

“ Mrs. Clarke is not, and they found no fault 
with Fay nor with Lucy.” 

“ Of course not. Lucy is straight enough to 
please even them, and Fay is not a — ” 

Amy paused. 

“Take care! don’t condemn yourself,” said 
Harry. “ Let me complete the sentence for you. 
Fay is not a church-member, and so of course 
he would have no right to find fault with her ; 
but having proceeded thus far in my lecture I 
think I ’ll not deliver it all. Only I think I 
will not join the church ranks just yet, for I 
cannot practice self-abnegation as my cousins 
do, and I am not prepared to be a nominal 
Christian. So I think I will just enjoy myself 


WHAT THE WORLD SAYS. 1 83 

as usual, sow my wild oats, and leave the reli- 
gion of the family to my consistent sister,” and 
he left the room whistling a merry tune, leav- 
ing his sister in a no very enviable frame of 
mind. 

Her book had lost its interest, and she sat a 
long time thinking, realizing that she had given 
occasion for the remarks that had been made, 
and that she ought to step wholly over the line 
and be separated from the world, but could not 
quite bring herself to the point where she felt 
willing to make the sacrifice. 

She recalled the time when she first gave 
herself to the Lord, and even shed a few tears 
as she compared those days of true happiness 
with the present time ; she resolved that she 
would be more careful in the future, and give 
up a little here and a little there, but not be so 
pronounced in her views as to cause remark ; 
and so, in the days that followed, she succeeded 
in being just religious enough to make herself 
unhappy. 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XI. 

FAITH, 

The Academy looked very pleasant to Lucy 
as she approached it late the next afternoon. 
It was a large, white building, standing well 
back from the street, surrounded by extensive 
lawns over which large trees were scattered, 
beneath whose shade the pupils often brought 
their books and studied, or gathered in merry 
groups and built air-castles, or looked at the 
serious side of life, and planned a useful future 
when their school days should end and they 
should take their places in the great busy world. 

The Leicester girls and Dorothy stood on the 
piazza to welcome her, and Lucy felt that it was 
almost like coming home, as indeed it was a sec- 
ond home, and she thought with regret of the 
time when she must leave it and begin in ear- 
nest to bear the responsibilities of life. But 
should she not do that now ? she felt that she 
had not, but she certainly would try more zeal- 
ously from henceforth. 

The days which followed the commencement 
of the term were filled with study and social 
intercourse, and everything seemed the same as 


FAITH. 


185 

when the school closed four months before. 
Too much the same, Lucy thought, looking at 
Dorothy’s thin sacque; and then a happy thought 
came to her. 

Dorothy !” she exclaimed one day, “ I am 
going to commence in season for Christmas this 
year, and I wish you would help me. You have 
seen Miss Curtis’ parlor, and you could not help 
noticing what a bright spot your picture made 
in it. Now, if you have time, I wish you would 
paint a companion-piece for her; and I would 
like to give Miss Pray a picture too, she is very 
fond of them. Do you think you can compass 
it?” 

And Dorothy, half -mistrusting, consented ; 
but she never knew that Lucy had said to the 
girls that she thought there were few things so 
appropriate for Christmas presents as good pic- 
tures, and so she was surprised that so many 
seemed to be of that opinion. She spent all her 
leisure moments before her easel, and Lucy re- 
joiced, when the weather grew cold, to see the 
thin brown sacque replaced by one of soft warm 
grey, and the worn dress by a stylish, though 
very plain one, which matched the cloak in 
color. 

The holidays passed pleasantly, and the New 
Year dawned clear and cold. Lucy finished her 
practising, and leaving the piano stood by the 


86 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


window. The broad expanse of glistening snow 
seemed to her like the opening of the new 
months before her ; there was nothing to sully 
the whiteness yet, but soon footsteps would mar 
the presence : how about the steps to be trodden 
in life’s pathway through the coming days ? She 
had tried to use all her influence for the right, 
but, standing there looking back over the track 
of the year just ended, she felt that she had been 
very deficient in personal work. She had never 
taken any one by the hand and invited her to 
tread the narrow way with her. Could she do so ? 

Her self-communings were suddenly inter- 
rupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, 
and a moment later the door flew open and a 
bevy of merry girls entered the room. 

“You here, Lucy!” exclaimed Amy; “the 
tickets have come at last, are n’t you glad ? Of 
course,” without waiting for a reply, “ you will 
take some.” 

For answer Lucy extended her hand for the 
bits of pasteboard. 

“ Only think ! there are only to be three — 
three delightful musicales. Is it not lovely 1” 
supplemented Sarah. 

“ And they are to be only once a month,” 
said Helen Grant. 

“ Lengthened sweetness long drawn out,” 
sighed Fay. “ Keep us in suspense and on ex- 


FAITH. 187 

pense all the time ; lose the interest on money 
invested.” 

‘‘You wont lose much on the first one, you 
penurious little puss,” said Nellie Wood. 

“ When is it?” inquired Margaret, looking at 
her ticket for the first time ; “ oh, to-night,” an- 
swering her own question. 

“To-night?” repeated Lucy, following Mar- 
garet’s example, and looking at her ticket. 

“ What is the matter with to-night ?” inquired 
Sarah curiously. 

“ It is Friday evening.” 

“ And is my nut-brown maid afraid because 
Friday is unlucky ? and does she fear that the 
fiddle-strings will snap and the voices refuse to 
harmonise, and the piano produce discord, and 
things prove discordant generally? Poor nut- 
brown maid !” 

Lucy smiled at the little sprite, but the smile 
was grave. 

“ What is the trouble with Friday evening?” 
repeated Sarah. 

“ I have an engagement.” 

“ Can’t it be put off ?” Margaret asked the 
question with a peculiar tone, at the same time 
looking at Amy, who moved uneasily. 

“ Everything can be deferred for the plea 
sure of listening to the dulcet strains which will 
greet our ears this evening. Oh, maiden ! con- 


i88 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


sider before you deny yourself this great plea- 
sure and deprive us of the light of your pres- 
ence,” and Fay looked saucily up into the calm 
face, and Margaret waited. 

“I have an engagement every Friday even- 
ing,” replied Lucy, directing her words to the 
latter. 

“ Do you mean to say that you consider it 
imperative that you attend the Friday evening 
meeting every week?” Sarah’s tone expressed 
curiosity. 

“ Yes, and no. I consider that I have an en- 
gagement on those evenings, and I try to make 
my other duties and pleasures eonform to that ; 
but I can think of many circumstances when I 
might feel called upon to forego that pleasure, 
for it is a pleasure, and I am certainly disap- 
pointed to miss the musicale ; but next week will 
be the week of prayer, and I feel that I need the 
preparation which this evening will give me,” 
and Lucy quietly left the room. 

The girls were silent for a moment and then 
Sarah exclaimed, “Well, I declare! if it were 
any one but Lucy I should say she was cranky ; 
as it is, I certainly think she is peculiar.” 

“ I am not a Christian, and I make no profes- 
sion for goodness,” and Margaret’s tone ex- 
pressed satisfaction at the fact ; “ but I honor 
Lucy Broad for being consistent. She believes 


FAITH. 


189 

it is right to forego the pleasures of the world 
for what she calls religion, and I respect her for 
acting according to her conviction of right. I 
believe in hoisting your colors and then sailing 
under them.” 

“ But Lucy joins most of our pleasures,” said 
Susie Warner, “ and seems to enjoy them.” 

“ Yes, but you have probably noticed that she 
does not engage in any punsuit which people 
call in question. I think she is foolish,” and 
Margaret’s proud lip curled, “ but from her 
standpoint she is at least consistent. If people 
wish to play cards, dance, and attend the theatre, 
why do they join the church at all ? Why do 
they not stay in the world where they belong ?” 

“You make a distinction,” said Helen, while 
Amy’s face was scarlet. 

“ There is a distinction and should be a differ- 
ence between those who profess that they have 
renounced the world and its pleasures and those 
who make no such pretensions,” replied Marga- 
ret. 

Oh, dear,” sighed Fay, “ how solemn we all 
are. Let my nut-brown maid ‘gang her ain 
gait,’ and we will do the same but Margaret’s 
words, although spoken in sarcasm, were not 
soon forgotten by some who heard them. 

As for Lucy, she was not quite sure what her 
own way was. She had looked forward to the 


IQO LUCY broad’s choice. 

musicale with pleasant anticipation for some 
time, but during the last few hours she had 
longed for the rest and strength she expected 
to find by attending the evening meeting. 

Dorothy looked up and opened her lips to 
speak as Lucy entered the room, but closed them 
again at sight of her face. She had learned to 
understand Lucy’s moods well during the months 
they had been together, and instinctively felt 
that to the present one silence would be most 
pleasing. 

Lucy was very quiet at the tea-table, taking 
but little part in the merry chatter which usually 
made that meal so pleasant. 

“Are you going to the musicale, Dorothy?” 
inquired Sarah. 

Receiving a simple negative she added, “ Oh, 
no ! I might have known that you would go to 
meeting with Lucy,” which gave to Dorothy 
some idea of the cause of Lucy’s abstraction. 

They were the only pupils who went to the 
church, and Lucy soon forgot the musicale in lis- 
tening to the tender words of prayer ; she found 
the peace she desired, and when at the close of 
the meeting the pastor asked how many would 
try during the coming week to lead some one to 
the Saviour, she was among the first to acquiesce, 
and she thought no musicale could sound forth 
sweeter harmony than the closing hymn. 


FAITH. 


I9I 

“ 'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, 

Just to take him at his word ; 

Just to rest upon his promise ; 

Just to know, ‘ Thus saith the Lord.’ 

“ I ’m so glad I learned to trust thee, 

Gracious Jesus, Saviour, Friend; 

And I know that thou art wdth me. 

Wilt be with me to the end. 

“ Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him ! 

How I ’ve proved him o'er and o’er ! 

Jesus, Jesus, gracious Jesus ! 

O for grace to trust him more.” 

And still trusting him she caught Fay’s hand 
as she was dancing through the hall the follow- 
ing Monday evening, and in answer to her look 
of inquiry said, “ Fay, wont you go to meeting 
with me this evening ?” 

Why, I went last evening,” she said, the 
dimples showing in her cheeks. 

Lucy waited. 

Fay pulled her hand away. “ I am afraid I 
should be too good if I should go two nights in 
succession : besides, I don’t know what my lady 
Margaret would say.” 

Lucy made no reply, but something in the 
brown eyes caused Fay to pause as she was turn- 
ing away, and the saucy smile left her lips. 

It is not what Margaret Bradleigh will say, 
but what will the Lord, your Saviour, say.” 

Lucy had the rare gift of knowing when she 


192 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


had said enough : she added no more, but slowly 
crossed the long hall and ascended the stairs. 

Fay watched her until she entered the upper 
hall and then, seating herself on the lowest step, 
gave herself up to thought. For this merry little 
elf could think, but her best feelings were hid- 
den deep in her heart and she seldom allowed 
them to find expression. Lucy’s words had 
touched her deeply, and the next day they re- 
peated themselves over and over in her mind ; 
but although she put herself in Lucy’s way at 
times, nothing more was said on the subject un- 
til the second evening, when Fay stopped her 
as they came from the supper-room. 

** I think going to meeting makes you very 
reticent and disagreeable,” she said with a little 
pout on her lips, but a wistful look in the hazel 
eyes. 

Again Lucy made no reply, but waited, at the 
same time sending up a quick prayer for guid- 
ance. 

“ Why do n’t you tell me what they do there ?” 

“You know as well as I do. Fay; will you 
go to-night?” 

“ Yes, now you have condescended to ask me 
again : and I ’ll go right and ‘ beard the lion in 
his den ! the Douglas in his hall,’ and tell my 
lady Margaret. It remains to be seen whether I 
^ hence unscathed shall go.’ If I do not appear 


FAITH. 


193 


when the bell begins to ring, come and learn my 
fate.” 

Margaret was sitting by the table studying ; 
a picture of graceful ease. Her handsome, 
haughty face was calm, with the coldness of an 
iceberg. Fay thought, as she crossed the room 
and leaning her little white hand on the table 
before her said, Margaret, I am going to meet- 
ing.” 

“ Is Saul also among the prophets ?” said Mar- 
garet, lifting her eyebrows. 

“No, not yet ; but I am going to hear what 
the prophets say.” 

“ Look out that they do n’t make a hypocrite 
of you,” she said, with intense scorn in her tone. 

“ Do you give to Lucy and Dorothy that op- 
probrious epithet ?” 

“ No ! they are consistent according to their 
narrow ideas ;.but nine-tenths of those who pro- 
fess so much are either hypocrites or sadly in- 
consistent.” 

“ What a sweeping, scathing assertion,” said 
Fay, with a low bow. “ Spare me, lady Marga- 
ret. I certainly am consistent in being nothing 
but a worthless butterfly ; but I know there is 
something better, and I want it,” and the sweet 
face grew sober. 

“ Butterflies are beautiful and have their 
mission, and I would rather keep you just as you 

13 


194 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


are, with your bright, airy ways, with your 
smiles and your dimples, than see you wear the 
long face which even the thought of going to 
meeting has caused. Be my own little Fay and 
stay with me.” 

“ No, thank you,” said Fay, thinking how 
worse than useless it was to try and explain to 
Margaret. Explain what ? and she smiled at the 
incongruous thought, and then grew grave at the 
fact of her own lack of knowledge. 

She made no comment about the meeting 
either to Lucy or Margaret, but the next even- 
ing was ready at the appointed time and met 
Lucy and the other girls at the door. No one 
seemed surprised at her presence, and she never 
knew that many silent prayers were offered in 
her behalf that evening. 

Lucy watched and waited for a suitable op- 
portunity to speak with her, feeling that when 
the proper time came it would be made plain to 
her ; and the opportunity was not long deferred, 
for on the following Monday afternoon a knock 
at her door admitted Fay. She curled herself 
comfortably in a large easy-chair, saying, I 
watched for Dorothy to go to her painting les- 
son, so that I could have my nut-brown maid 
all to myself.” 

Lucy laid her book face down upon the table 
and by look invited Fay’s confidence. 


FAITH. 


195 


She seemed in no hurry to bestow it, but 
brushed the soft curls from her forehead, ar- 
ranged the tidy on the back of the chair, and 
then, folding her little hands in her lap, glanced 
at Lucy with a teasing smile on the rosy lips, 
but a yearning look in the hazel eyes as she 
said, “ Lucy, if I become a Christian can’t I go 
to the theatre, play cards, nor dance?” 

“ Why do you wish to become a Christian ?” 

“ Why, that I may be happy hereafter,” re- 
plied Fay, surprised into giving a direct answer. 

“ Do you not wish to be happy here and 
now ?” 

Lucy Broad, I think you are horrid ! I came 
for you to help me. Who is happier than I, I 
would like to know?” 

Lucy paid no attention to the implied re- 
proach. If she rendered assistance it must be 
in her own way, so she simply said, “ Way down 
deep in your heart. Fay, is there no unsatisfied 
longing?” 

The sweet lips pouted at first, and then 
curved into a grieved expression like a little 
child’s, as she said, “ Lucy, my father is a noble 
Christian man ; my mother has never joined the 
church, and she loves society. Papa never ac- 
companied her to the theatre or opera, and I 
know he would rather that I should not go, but 
mamma is very ambitious for me to shine in that 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


196 

delectable sphere known as first society, and so I 
have been with her a great deal, and I do enjoy 
it all — but — 

“You are not quite satisfied,” supplemented 
Lucy. 

Fay shook her head. 

“ Then why do you wish to continue in the 
same way ?” 

“ I do not.” 

“ But how would you be different if you 
kept right on in the same manner?” 

“ Have n’t I told you I wish to be a Christian?” 

Lucy ignored the fact that she had not, and 
said, “ What is your idea of a Christian ?” 

“ Why, a good person.” 

Lucy shook her head. “You are that now.” 

Fay smiled and said, “ Thank you,” and then 
added wishfully, “Oh, Lucy! what do I want?” 

“ Your heart full of the love of Christ and 
then Lucy told her the sweet old, yet ever new 
story of a Saviour’s redeeming love. Fay sat 
quietly, the long lashes hiding her eyes, and 
Lucy could only judge of the effect of her words 
by noticing that her lips trembled, otherwise 
her face was calm. 

The room was very quiet for sometime after 
Lucy’s voice ceased, and then Fay looked up and 
said, “ But Lucy, you have not answered my first 
question.” 


FAITH. 


197 


“ Why do n’t you go to the theatre to-night, 
and ask some one there to teach you how to be- 
come a Christian ?” 

Fay sat upright and looked at Lucy with wide 
eyes, and for once seemed to have no reply ready, 
but although she did not speak she felt the in- 
consistency of the proposition. 

“ Suppose,” continued Lucy, after waiting a 
moment for a response to her question, “sup- 
pose that all religious sects wore some distin- 
guishing badge or uniform, as I sometimes wish 
they did, what would you think to meet those 
who wore them at the place you have men- 
tioned? How would it impress you, for in- 
stance, to see some of the soldiers of the Sal- 
vation Army at the theatre ?” 

Fay made a wry face, and the dimples showed 
in her cheeks as she soberly replied, “It would 
impress me, as it always does, that this uniform 
was horribly homely and unbecoming, entirely 
devoid of good taste.” 

But for the trembling lips of a few moments 
before, Lucy would have been tempted to feel 
discouraged ; as it was, she took no notice of the* 
levity of the reply, remembering that beneath 
it all was a tender, loving heart. 

“ What would you say if you should see one 
there wearing the garb of a Friend ?” 

“ Did you know that Margaret’s grand- 


198 LUCY broad’s choice. 

mother was a Quakeress ?” questioned Fay irrele- 
vantly. 

“ No,” replied Lucy briefly. 

“ Well, she is, and she is such a grand and 
stately lady. She looks like Margaret and she 
wears such lovely drab dresses, soft cashmeres 
and heavy silks, and she is so sweet and good ; 
but neither friend nor stranger can trifle with 
her, all the same, for she is always dignified, 
and puts everybody on their best behavior when 
they are with her.” 

“ What would you think if you saw her at 
the theatre ?” 

“ If she wore her largest sugar scoop bonnet 
I should not wish to sit behind her.” 

Lucy took up her book. 

There, Lucy ! I know you think I am hor- 
rid, and I think I am too, but I do not wish to 
be so any more. You dear, old Lucy,” she con- 
tinued, going to her and hugging her, “ I have 
truly listened to what you said, and it is all a 
muddle.” 

“Why do you trouble yourself with those 
questions now ? Why do you not give your heart 
to the Saviour, and then they will all come 
right?” 

“ Because they stand right square in the 
way.” 

“ Giving up these things will not make you a 


FAITH, 


199 


Christian. Do you not see, dear little Fay, that 
with you it is a choice between serving the 
world and loving and obeying your Heavenly 
Father ? Do you remember the words of Joshua 
to the children of Israel, ‘ Choose you this day 
whom ye will serve?’ and the Saviour’s own 
words, ‘ No man can serve two masters : for 
either he will hate the one, and love the other ; 
or else he will hold to the one, and despise the 
other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon?’ 
Do you not see that your sin has been one of 
thoughtless forgetfulness of One who loved you 
so much that he died that you might be happy ? 
And are you not sorry? You certainly would be 
if you had treated an earthly friend in this way.” 

Luey paused a moment, and then with seem- 
ing irrelevance said, “ Would you not like to 
play with dolls once more ?” 

“ I thought you would help instead of laugh- 
ing at me,” said Fay a little resentfully. 

“ I am not laughing at you. Do you not see 
the import of my question? You have thrown 
aside your childish toys because you no longer 
care for them. That is the way I feel towards 
the things I once loved. It requires no self-ab- 
negation for me to give them up, for I no longer 
care for them ; I possess that which is so much 
better. I know that I love my Saviour and wish 
to please him. Oh, Fay ! do you not desire to 


200 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


feel right towards God ? do you not wish to be 
washed from all sin and impurity, and be clothed 
in the white robe of Christ’s righteousness ? It 
is not a question of giving up the things you are 
so fond of, but of feeling that as all have sinned, 
you as one of the all need forgiveness, need a 
heart full of a Saviour’s love.” 

“ You have said everything you can, and now 
I will go and think it out for myself,” and kiss- 
ing Lucy, she left the room, and going down 
stairs opened the school-room door. 

The large room was empty, and crossing it 
she took a seat in the farthest corner, and lean- 
ing both arms on the desk before her laid her 
head upon them. Thought was very busy as 
she reviewed her past life. What a useless life 
it seemed, “ and yet,” she thought, what have 
I done that is bad ? I am sure I have been a 
good girl. I have always been truthful, and 
tried to be kind, why do I need to be different ? 
and yet how glad papa would be to have me 
different, to know that I was a Christian. But 
mamma — ” and then she contrasted the two 
lives. Her father was always doing good, giv- 
ing largely of his abundant means for religious 
and charitable objects, and her mother devoting 
her time to fashion and gaiety. What would 
she say if her only daughter were to come out 
of the world ? And then Fay did love its pleas- 


FAITH. 


201 


ures ; why could she not have both ? She had 
been very happy until this troublesome question 
came up, and now it did not seem as though she 
ever could be happy again in the old way, yet 
she was not ready to give it up. Then came 
the thought of Lucy ; surely she enjoyed life, 
and who was more happy than Dorothy? and 
they were not simply negatively good. And 
then she looked away from their lives to the 
life of the One they were trying to follow, and 
it all seemed to pass before her for review, from 
the starlight night when the shepherds listened 
to the song of the angels on the far away Indian 
plain, to the last despairing cry on Calvary ; and 
then there floated through her mind the words 
of a hymn which she had heard at one of the 
meetings of the past week, 

*• God calling yet ! shall I not hear ? 

Earth’s pleasures shall I still hold dear ? 

Shall life’s swift passing years all fly, 

And still my soul in slumber lie ?” 

And for the first time a feeling of her un- 
gratefulness in wishing her own way filled her 
mind and settled with a burden of unforgiven 
sin, and poor little Fay wept as she had never 
done before. 

“ God calling yet ! shall I not rise ? 

Can I his loving voice despise, 

And basely his kind care repay ? 

He calls me still ; can I delay ?” 


202 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


She thought of her beautiful home and all 
her pleasant surroundings ; could she leave 
them ? Well, she was not required to ; it was 
simply a decision to be made between worldly 
pleasures and the unspeakable blessedness of 
God’s love. 

Fay paused a long time over that thought, 
and still the refrain “ God is calling yet, oh, 
hear Him,” repeated itself like an undertone in 
her mind. 

“ God calling yet ! and shall i give 
No heed, but still in bondage live ?” 

No,” she replied, “ I will heed ! Dear Lord, 
help me to come entirely out of bondage into 
thy love and service. I am weary of myself 
and my frivolity, take me as I am,” and her 
tears ceased and other words came to her mind. 
** Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.” She wanted 
rest now — she was tired, restless in mind and 
body. 

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me ; 
for I am meek and lowly in heart : and ye shall 
find rest unto your souls.” 

“ Oh, I do n’t care for anything,” she thought, 
only to feel right.” 

“ Him that comet h to me, I will in no wise 
cast out.” 


FAITH. 


203 


She replied as to an audible voice. “ Dear 
Lord ! I do come ! take me ! I do not care for 
anything else ; it all looks so small compared to 
thine approval. I am willing to give up every- 
thing.” 

Minutes passed, and the burden grew lighter, 
and peace stole in her heart and took the place 
of disquietude and gradually swelled into joy, 
and Fay lifted her head for the first time since 
she had entered the room. 

A long time must have passed, for the sun 
had set, and dark shadows filled the great lonely 
room ; but her heart was singing a glad paean, 
and the shadows did not touch her. She lingered 
until the supper bell pealed through the house, 
and the girls looked at her wonderingly as she 
entered the dining-room, for there was a certain 
shy sweetness about her they had never seen 
before. Her eyes shone, and her lips were 
wreathed with smiles, but they were not the 
smiles of mischief which usually preceded some 
bright repartee or quick thought. 

“What is it?” they asked themselves, and 
only Lucy understood. 

She said but little at first, but before the 
meal was ended she was laughing merrily with 
the others. 

She waited at its close for Lucy, who was de- 
tained by one of the teachers, and the other 


204 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


girls had left the hall and dispersed in different 
directions when they came from the dining- 
room. 

Lucy stooped, and kissing the sweet lips 
said, “ I am so glad, Fay.” 

“ So am I ; and, Oh, Lucy ! you were right. 
The things have taken care of themselves. I do 
not care for them at all. I never was so happy. I 
am so glad, I can’t keep still,” and she skipped 
through the hall, and Lucy looking after her 
smiled, knowing that the victory was won ; and 
in the days that followed her school-mates found 
her the same merry little elf, but mingled with 
her mirth was a certain intangible sweetness 
they could not define, a loving thoughtfulness 
for the comfort of others, a watching for oppor- 
tunity to perform kind deeds ; but she attended 
no more midnight fetes or festivals. All lawful 
pastimes found in her a champion, but she con- 
formed strictly to the rules of the school so un- 
ostentatiously that even Margaret, watching 
jealously, could find no fault, and the girls loved 
and petted her more than ever. 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 205 


CHAPTER XII. 

IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 

The remainder of the winter passed unevent- 
fully. March blustered and blew itself out in 
angry tears, and sweet, coy April came with its 
clouds and sunshine, the days grew, longer and 
warmer, the scent of apple-blossoms filled the 
air, and the pink petals faded to white and flut- 
tered to the earth where they lay like snow- 
flakes on the emerald lawns. 

The girls of the graduating-class paid but lit- 
tle attention to the world outside of the Acad- 
emy. It had been the custom since the estab- 
lishment of the school to present a gold medal 
to the pupil who ranked highest in scholarship 
and deportment, and diplomas to those who at- 
tained a record of seventy per cent. 

The regular course was three years, but Lucy 
and Dorothy had entered on the second year, 
passing all the examinations and taking high 
rank. 

All were anxious for the medal, but as the 
time drew hear it was known that it would be 
given to either Lucy or Margaret, both of whom 
were very anxious for its possession, the former 
because she really desired to rank high as a 


2o6 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


scholar, and the latter with the added reason 
that she was ambitious to be first in everything. 

Only two weeks of the term remained and 
they stood on the same level. Mrs. Templeton 
was perplexed, as only one medal could be given, 
and the girls looked on curiously, wondering 
that two could be rivals and still continue firm 
friends. They did not know that Lucy’s noble 
nature and Christian principle would not allow 
envy a place in her heart, and that Margaret 
scorned even the appearance of jealousy because 
it was acknowledging another’s superiority. 

Lucy and Margaret were the only ones who 
never spoke of the prize unless it was men- 
tioned to them, and a casual observer would 
have thought that they were the only ones who 
were indifferent to it. 

Dorothy received a vague hint as to what 
was passing in the minds of her room-mate 
when, with thoughtful face, she one evening 
said, Dorothy, what does the Bible mean when 
it tells us in honor to prefer others ?” 

‘‘ I have puzzled over those words a great 
many times,” Dorothy replied, ‘‘ and I am afraid 
that I am not willing to accept the only explan- 
ation which can be given. It is comparatively 
easy to understand what it is to love your neigh- 
bor as yourself, even if not always perfectly easy 
or agreeable to perform it. But to prefer an- 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 20/ 

other in honor, it seems to me goes beyond that. 
I have thought of it something like this : If one 
of two candidates for office, realizing that only 
one of them could obtain the place, should with- 
draw his name that his opponent might have the 
position, he would be preferring him in honor.’' 

“ Providing there was any honor in the posi- 
tion, and then I would like to see anyone do it,” 
replied Lucy, a little tersely ; “ there would be 
some hope for the political world.” 

Dorothy smiled. “ Well, I think it means for 
any one to step down and out and let another 
take the place of honor. To be willing to work 
and let another have the credit.” 

Lucy made no reply, and the subject was not 
mentioned again. The days flew by and only 
two more remained before the graduating exer- 
cises, and still Lucy and Margaret maintained 
their places of equality. 

The western sun shone through Mr. Broad’s 
dining-room windows, causing the cut-glass to 
sparkle with reflected rays, and heightening the 
brilliancy of a vase of flowers which stood in the 
centre of the table, around which sat Mr. and 
Mrs. Broad, Will and Hazel. 

“ Sit still. Hazel, do not fidget so.” 

“ Can’t help it,” replied the little one. “ I 
want it to be to-morrow.” 


208 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Acting in that way will not make it so.” 

“ Seems as though I could jump into it and 
suiting the action to the word she jumped up in 
her high-chair, thereby sending her fork and 
spoon to the floor, and was only saved from 
condign punishment by a knock at the door, 
which was opened by the butler and admitted 
Miss Curtis. 

“ Is you going to see Lucy modulate to-mor- 
row?” inquired Hazel. 

“ Hazel Broad !” exclaimed her step-mother, 
while the rest laughed. 

“ Graduate,”, corrected Miss Curtis, and her 
usually stern face wore a pleased expression. 

“Well, sumfin’,” said undaunted Hazel. 
“ We ’re all going ; is you ?” and without waiting 
for an answer she continued, “ ’Cause my mam- 
ma said she was s’ prised that Lucy should give 
you a ticket when she only had five, and she 
hoped you would n’t go.” 

Miss Curtis’ sallow cheeks flushed and she 
closed her thin lips tightly. 

“ Surprised, because I thought she would 
give the ticket to some of her young friends,” 
explained Mrs. Broad, with ready deceit and ig- 
noring the last clause of the sentence. 

“ I am sure that Lucy has no friend near her 
own age whom she would be more glad to see 
than she would you, as she has proved by send- 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 20g 

ing you the ticket,” added Mr. Broad, with quick 
courtesy. If there is anything I can do to 
assist you, command me and I shall be happy 
to aid you.” 

Poor Miss Curtis ! she had appreciated Lucy’s 
kindness in selecting her from her very large 
circle of friends, many of whom were hoping 
that the favored lot of receiving the spare ticket 
would be theirs ; and then she had not taken so 
long a journey for years, and it would be quite 
an event in her life. She had come to Mr. 
Broad’s that evening full of pleasurable antici- 
pation of the many pleasant things in store for 
her during the next two days, for the friends of 
the graduating class went to Middletown the 
day before and spent a pleasant evening together 
at the hotel becoming acquainted, and the next 
evening enjoying the acquaintances thus formed ; 
and now the delightful anticipations were cloud- 
ed and she was inclined to give it up. 

“ But, no !” she reflected, I will not mind 
any one so low as Althea Adams she never in 
her own mind designated her as a Broad ; “ I 
will go because Lucy invited me, this woman 
has nothing to do with it,” and turning to Mr. 
Broad, she said, '' I called to see if you would 
buy my ticket when you got yours ?” 

Certainly : and I will send the carriage for 
you in the morning,” and he accompanied her 

14 


210 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


to the door with as much courtesy as he would 
have shown to his most fashionable acquain- 
tance, and then, returning, he led Hazel to a 
secluded corner of the piazza, and labored with 
her for fifteen minutes, to convince her that it 
was wrong to repeat what she heard. But the 
little culprit was incorrigible. 

“Don’t you see,” she said, “’t was n’t me 
who was naughty ? I did n’t say it. If it was n’t 
proper she should n’t have told so, and then I 
could n’t have telled.” 

Mrs. Broad’s attitude was one of graceful ease 
as she stood on the upper step of the piazza the 
next morning, waiting for the carriage. She 
had reason to feel satisfied with her outward ap- 
pearance, at least, for her dainty new travel- 
ling dress was unusually becoming, and her 
whole attire faultless. 

“ Let me put your hat in place, Hazel,” she 
said to that restless little body, and catching hold 
of her she retained her long enough to place it 
properly. 

“ ’T wont stay,” said Hazel, giving it a push 
which had the effect of giving to the little maid- 
en a very jaunty appearance. 

Her brother smiled: he was very proud of 
her beauty, and certainly he had reason to be. 
The large hat only partially concealed the tiny 
chestnut curls which clustered round her white 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 


21 


forehead ; her brown eyes were sparkling and 
the dimples playing hide-and-seek in her pink 
cheeks. Even fastidious Mrs. Broad could find 
no fault with the adjustment of the hat, for it 
was very becoming. 

I wish the car — there it comes,” she ex- 
claimed as it rolled up to the door, and Sam 
reined in his horses with a flourish. 

“ Oh, do hurry ! the engine ’ll go and then I 
can’t see Lucy get the medal ; and Hazel ran 
down three steps and would have fallen the rest 
if Sam had not caught her. 

“ Oh, do put me in !” she urged, “ the engine 
will go.” 

“ Oh, no ! Miss Hazel,” replied Sam, “ it won’t 
go till we get dar,” and he held on to her as 
Mrs. Broad leisurely descended the steps, and 
taking her place in the carriage carefully ar- 
ranged her dress, paying no attention to the 
little girl who was jumping up and down with 
impatience ; but she was finally seated between 
her father and brother and the carriage started, 
and then Mrs. Broad looked at her companion. 

A new cashmere dress,” she commented to 
herself, “ an improvement on the black alpacca, 
but how plain ! New bonnet too ! Well, it is 
in the style of ten months ago instead of ten 
years,” ,and she almost smiled as she noticed 
the black shawl drawn tight about the neck and 


212 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


pinned down the front with a row of three black 
headed pins ; and then nearly fainted as she 
saw that one cotten gloved hand held a carpet 
bag, and wondered that Mr. Broad seemed in no 
wise disconcerted, but took the offending bag 
from its owner, when they reached the station, 
with as much courtesy as he relieved his wife 
of the costly alligator satchel. And she noticed 
that if people looked curiously at the antiquated 
article greetings were no less cordial ; but for 
all that she felt relieved when they entered the 
car, and she was very careful that it was stored 
away out of sight. 

Will placed his little sister in her chair, but 
she immediately slipped out again to “ see if the 
engine was going and when the train started 
she settled back in her chair with a sigh of relief 
and content, saying that she should soon see 
Lucy get the medal. 

They were the last ones to reach the hotel, 
and Mrs. Broad noticed, as she passed through 
the hall to her room, that the large parlor was 
full of ladies and gentlemen. 

She soon completed her toilette and joined 
the company, looking very stylish and lady-like 
in her silken dress of soft pearl-gray. She was 
cordially greeted by the Leicester girls and 
Dorothy, and then Lucy introduced her to their 
parents. 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 213 

She observed that Mr. Colburn’s broadcloth 
was shining from long continued wear and much 
brushing, and that Mrs. Colburn had evidently 
“ made over ” her black silk dress for the occasion, 
and then silently admired the faultless costume 
of Mrs. Judge Bradleigh, the quiet but rich 
dress of Mrs. Bennett, and the light airy costume 
of Mrs. Fairbanks. 

“ Where is Miss Curtis ?” inquired Lucy, after 
a while. 

“ I think perhaps she is too tired to join us,” 
replied her step-mother, hoping she was making 
a true statement. 

But Lucy went to her room and found her 
sitting by the window, looking out over the 
beautiful summer landscape with eyes which 
took in no detail of its peacefulness, and in an- 
swer to Lucy’s query why she did not join her 
friends in the parlor, she turned slowly round 
and looking at Lucy searchingly, said, “ Lucy 
Broad ! ai n’t you ashamed of me ?” 

Was she?” Lucy had invited her with the 
thought of making a bright spot in her life, with 
the memory of Miss Fray’s words the first after- 
noon she took her to drive. She did not mind 
the plain dress, but the uncouth speech did 
offend her fastidious taste. But love was not 
ashamed, and then there flashed before her mind 
the lonely neglected life whose good impulses 


214 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


had grown harsh and hard through the neglect 
of others, and the longing to bring sunshine 
into this repressed and unappreciated life was so 
great that her heart went out in love and Sym- 
pathy which shone in the brown eyes as she 
said, ‘ Have I ever given you reason to think 
so?” and then yielding to her better impulse 
added, “ No ! I am not ashamed of you ; come,” 
and without farther ado Miss Curtis followed 
her to the parlor. 

Mrs. Broad lost the words with which Mrs. 
Fairbanks was addressing her as she saw Lucy 
enter the room, accompanied by Miss Curtis. 
She colored with apprehension as some of the 
girls looked curiously at her, but regained her 
composure when Fay tripped up to her, and 
holding up her rosy lips for a kiss, said, “ I am 
real glad that you came,” and Fay’s mother 
smilingly remarked, “ This must be the Miss 
Curtis I have heard Fay speak of so often and 
while Mrs. Broad was trying to interpret the 
smile Fay introduced her, and Mrs. Fairbanks 
received her graciously, and then Margaret spoke 
to her, and the elegant Mrs. Bradleigh acknowl- 
edged the introduction with a pleasant greeting. 

Lucy look care that the evening should pass 
pleasantly to her, never allowing her to feel 
neglected, and at nine o’clock the young ladies 
took their leave, laughingly declaring that they 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 21 5 

must have a good night’s rest that they might 
acquit themselves honorably on the morrow ; and 
above the confusion of voices rang Hazel’s clear 
treble as she called, “ Good night, Lucy ! I ’m 
coming to see you get the medal to-morrow.” 

Margaret face was a study as these words 
fell on her ears. The proud lip took its ready 
scornful curve, and then her face settled into 
haughty repose. Lucy’s face betrayed nothing. 

The next morning dawned promising the 
perfection of a June day. The grass sparkled 
with dew-drops and the air was redolent with 
the perfume of roses. 

The spacious hall where the exercises were 
to be held was filled at an early hour, and pre- 
cisely at nine o’clock the pupils took their places. 
The forenoon was devoted to general exercises, 
and the afternoon to the essays of the graduat- 
ing class. It passed very much as all such occa- 
sions do. The audience listened, and the friends 
of each speaker applauded just at the right mo- 
ment, and the fragrant bouquets were received 
with pleased acknowledgments. The valedictory 
was given, and then came a moment of hushed 
expectancy as Mrs. Templeton stepped to the 
front of the platform, holding in her hand a 
morocco-case containing the gold medal. 

She spoke a few words to the members of 
the class, commending them for their industry 


2I6 LUCY BROAD’S CHOICE. 

and perseverance, and wished that each might 
receive the coveted reward, but the rule of the 
school allowed but one to be given, and for the 
first time since the school was opened she was 
at a loss what to do. 

She then motioned to Lucy and Margaret, 
who rose and took their places on the platform 
opposite their teacher’s desk. 

“ If it had been possible,” she resumed, “ I 
should have two rewards instead of one. Never 
before has there been more than one first scholar, 
but paradoxical at it may seem, there are two 
to-day, as Miss Broad and Miss Bradleigh rank 
just the same in both scholarship and deport- 
ment. I have watched carefully for the last three 
months, and while sometimes one and some- 
times the other would receive a few extra marks, 
yet it always averaged the same, until to-day I 
can make no choice and I do not know what to 
do.” 

She paused, evidently hoping that some one 
would suggest some way out of the dilemma. 

Margaret stood with her whole attention cen- 
tered on the words of her teacher, her proud 
handsome face showing that no word of hers 
would prove helpful. 

Lucy’s attitude was one of deep thought as 
she stood with downcast eyes, hesitating a mo- 
ment, and then evidently overcoming some feel- 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 


217 


ing of reluctance she said, “ I am glad that you 
deem me worthy of the prize, and I thank you 
most heartily ; but as Miss Bradleigh is equally 
deserving, will you allow the fact that she has 
been here a year longer than I have to settle 
the question, and give the medal to her ?” 

There was a breathless silence, no one but 
Miss Curtis seeming to comprehend the full 
meaning of the words for a moment, and she 
in a whisper audible to those nearest her said, 
“ I should think the fact that Lucy was smart 
enough to go ahead of Margaret a whole year, 
would tip the scale the other way.” 

Then, as the beautiful self-abnegation re- 
vealed in Lucy’s words began to be understood, 
the audience began to applaud, the gentlemen 
clapping their hands, and the ladies waving their 
handkerchiefs, and as they looked into Lucy’s 
fair intellectual face, the applause grew louder 
and louder; but Lucy quietly took her seat, 
thus indicating that the praise was Margaret’s 
meed, of which idea both were disabused by its 
sudden cessation. 

Margaret replied in a few well-chosen words, 
thanking Lucy for her kind consideration, and 
her teacher for Ijer appreciation of the effort she 
had made. 

In a few moments more the exercises closed, 
and Lucy was surrounded, first by her school- 


2i8 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


mates, who were loud in their commendations 
for her unselfish act. 

I would not have done it for Lady Mar- 
gart, nor any one else,” exclaimed Sarah. 

“ She did not — wholly,” said Fay with loving 
glances. 

And Dorothy, understanding now the pur- 
port of her question of days ago, concerning 
honor, whispered, “ I think you have exemplified 
the meaning of the verse.” 

“ Well ! I declare, Lucy Broad — ” Miss Curtis 
was evidently vexed — “ you are the foolishest 
girl I know of. However, I believe you are a 
Christian ; you would n’t have done it if you 
had n’t been.” 

“Oh, Lucy ! I am so disappointed,” and there 
were actually tears in her step-mother’s eyes. 

But her father, resting his hand lovingly on 
her shoulder said, “ I would rather my daughter 
would show that in honor she can prefer others, 
than be the recipient of a dozen medals.” 

Lucy felt paid for the weeks of weary strug- 
gle through which she had passed, for it had 
not been easy for her to relinquish all claim to 
the prize which would have been a life-long 
badge of her scholarship. It was hard for her 
proud nature to yield, but the victory though 
long delayed was complete. 

Hazel, who had been looking from one to 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 2ig 

another, seemed at last to comprehend that 
somehow her sister had failed to receive the 
reward, and setting up a dismal wail exclaimed, 
“ I want to see Lucy have the medal !” 

And Margaret, standing near, thought that 
gold medals did not bring much pleasure after 
all. 

Mrs. Bradleigh tried to soothe and pacify the 
little girl with quiet words and sugared almonds, 
the later probably producing the desired effect, 
for the wailing ceased with the first mouthful ; 
and then she praised Lucy to her father, who 
assured her that he was perfectly satisfied with 
the day, a statement which Mrs. Bradleigh could 
not at all understand, and Mrs. Broad could not 
endorse, although she would not seem to differ 
from the sentiment expressed. 

“ Well, my Lady Margaret and Lucy seem 
just as firm friends as ever, which I cannot 
possibly understand when both wish the same 
thing and only one can have it,” said Sarah to 
a group of girls whose perplexed countenances 
echoed the thought. But Fay smiled brightly, 
opened her lips, and then closed them again be- 
fore the words which came to her escaped them,” 
“ Charity suffereth long and is kind,” it would 
not be kind to Margaret to repeat them, she 
thought, for their little maiden was learning 
many things not taught in school-books. 


220 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


The guests lingered a while and then returned 
to the hotel, and the pupils gathered in the din- 
ing-room ; the supper was a very quiet meal, and 
then the graduating class went to the music- 
room and spoke in loving tones of the pleasant 
hours they had spent together, and grew sad as 
they realized that they would probably never all 
meet together again, certainly not under similar 
circumstances. Then they gathered round the 
piano and sang the dear old songs which they 
had sung in careless glee so many times stand- 
ing together in the gathering twilight of the 
darkening school-room ; and then with one accord 
their voices blended with the unanswerable ques- 
tion in song, 

“ When shall we all meet again ? 

Oft shall glowing hopes aspire, 

Oft shall wearied love retire, 

Oft shall death and sorrow reign. 

Ere we all shall meet again. 

“ Though in distant lands we sigh. 

Parched beneath a hostile sky ; 

Though the deep between us rolls. 

Friendship shall unite our souls ; 

And in fancy’s wide domain 
There shall we all meet again. 

“ When the dreams of life are fled. 

When its wasted lamps are dead. 

When in cold oblivion’s shade 
Beauty, wealth, and fame are laid. 

Where immortal spirits reign. 

There may we all meet again.” 


IN HONOR PREFERRING OTHERS. 22l 

As the last note died away, dear little Fay 
took the vacant place at the piano, and in a 
voice which trembled with heartfelt emotion 
poured out her feelings in those beautiful words 
of hope, 

“We shall meet beyond the river, by and by, 

And the darkness will be over, by and by, 

With the toilsome journey done. 

And the glorious battle won. 

We shall shine forth as the sun, by and by. 

“We shall strike the harps of glory, by and by, 

We shall sing redemption’s story, by and by ; 

And the strains forvermore 
Shall resound in sweetness o’er 
Yonder everlasting shore, by and by. 

“We shall see and be like Jesus, by and by. 

Who a crown of life will give us, by and by ; 

And the angels who fulfil 

All the mandates of his will 

Shall attend and love us still, by and by. 

“ There our tears shall all cease flowing, by and by. 
And with sweetest rapture knowing, by and by. 

All the blest ones, who have gone 
To the land of life and song. 

We with shoutings shall rejoin, by and by.” 

Then, bidding each other a loving good-night, 
with this great question lingering in many a 
heart, they went to their rooms, and last things 
were put into satchels, and trunks were locked 
and strapped — and their schools days were ended. 


222 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“ COMING out:' 

Mrs. Broad had her plans for the remainder 
of the summer. She really liked to see young 
people enjoy themselves, and was fond of having 
a good time herself, and nothing pleased her 
better than to be surrounded by a merry com- 
pany while she aided in their enjoyment. She 
was much flattered by the many kind words of 
praise she had received for her good taste and 
ability in conducting many enjoyable occasions 
the previous season, and she saw no reason why 
she could not outdo even that for pleasure. So 
she remarked to Lucy early in July, that she 
hoped the young ladies had no engagements 
which would prevent them from spending the 
remainder of the summer at Oakhurst. She 
made no allusion to the young gentlemen. But 
Lucy had ideas of her own which she judicious- 
ly kept in the back-ground. “ Dorothy cannot 
come,” she said, “ her mother can hardly spare 
her, as she is to spend most of the winter with 
Amy and me.” 

Mrs. Broad concealed her joy at the revela- 
tion. If Dorothy did not come, Dorothy’s 
brother would not be likely to ; and thus -one 


COMING OUT.” 


223 

element which had troubled her was removed 
without her planning for it. 

“ That need not prevent the others,” she re- 
plied. 

“ The Fairbanks and the Bennetts are going 
to their summer residence on the Hudson for 
the remainder of the season.” 

Mrs. Broad was truly sorry, but even that did 
not interfere with her cherished plans. 

“ There are still some who can come,” she 
said. 

I would rather spend the coming weeks 
quietly,” replied Lucy. I would like to swing 
in a hammock under a shady tree, and read for 
weeks.” 

My dear Lucy ! what an inane life that 
would be. Not at all like your usual ambition 
to be useful.” 

Lucy could not see the usefulness of spend- 
ing all the time in frivolity, but wisely remained 
silent on that point. 

“ Papa spoke to me, or rather I told him,” 
she corrected with strict truthfulness, “that I 
would like to go to the seashore, and he thought 
it would be pleasant for us all ; and this morn- 
ing I received a letter from Evansville stating 
that they could accommodate us with rooms for 
two months.” 

Mrs. Broad reflected a moment, and then. 


224 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

somewhat to Lucy’s surprise said, “That may 
not be a bad plan. I will consider it.” 

Lucy went out on the piazza where her bro- 
ther sat with a book in his hand, but his amused 
look, as his sister took a seat on the upper step 
near him, assured her that he had heard the 
conversation. 

“ Do you remember saying when Mrs. Broad 
first came here, that she would always have 
her own way? She seems to have failed this 
time.” 

“ I am not so sure,” replied his sister ; “ her 
way is to have us spend the coming weeks with 
Margaret and her — ” 

Then she paused and Will gave a low whistle, 
immediately begging pardon for his uninten- 
tional rudeness. 

The result proved Lucy correct ; for her step- 
mother met her a few days later as she came 
in from a drive, with an open letter in her hand 
and a face radiant with pleasure. 

“You can spend the vacation with your 
friends, after all,” she said, although Lucy had 
been greatly disappointed at the prospect that 
it was to be otherwise. “ Your aunt and cousins 
will go to Evansville, and the Bradleighs also. 
I am glad for you.” 

A laugh, which was covered by a cough, 
sounded through the open window, and Lucy 


COMING OUT.” 


225 

carried quite a vexed face to her brother who 
was in his favorite place on the piazza. 

“ I think you are too bad,” she said. 

“ So do I,” he gravely replied. “ I only hope 
she did not notice.” 

“ She was too elated at the success of her 
plans,” replied Lucy dolefully. “ I thought I 
had a will of my own, but it stands no chance 
before her drastic measures, although she covers, 
or attempts to cover them, with dulcet manner 
and tones.” 

“ My dear sister,” said Will, “ I think you 
have learned to subdue your will, or at least to 
hold it in abeyance, not allowing it to rule you 
as it used to. You certainly are making prog- 
ress in the right direction, and are learning the 
charity which suffereth long and is kind.” 

And Lucy, looking into the grave eyes of 
her only brother, whose will always seemed un- 
der perfect control, felt thankful that her strug- 
gles for the right had brought some tangible 
result. 

A pleasant surprise awaited Lucy the Friday 
evening before she left home. She had enjoyed 
the meeting, was feeling sorry that she would 
not have another opportunity to attend a similar 
one in her own church for some time, and she 
was so intent in thinking how much she would 
miss the dear familiar friends from whom she 

15 


226 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

had been absent so much during the last two 
years, that she had not noticed Mrs. Clarke’s 
closing words, and was startled by the sound of 
a familiar voice ; and looking up, saw that Miss 
Curtis was standing, and became uneasy that 
while her thoughts had been wandering, her 
pastor had said, that they would listen to the 
experience of their sister. 

Lucy did listen, with tender heart, as Miss 
Curtis repeated the story of her conversion, 
very much as she had told it to Miss Pray several 
years before, describing her disappointment in 
Christian people in general. “ But my attention 
was brought to myself,” she said, “ by a friend 
asking me why I did not live like a Christian 
myself, if I knew how so well : and sure enough 
why did n’t I ? and then I found one person who 
was very kind to me, and lived what she pro- 
fessed, and that warmed my heart. I don’t 
feel to blame nobody to-night, for I realize that 
we have all got to give an account of ourselves 
and not of somebody else, and I want to live 
right, and make somebody happy, and follow 
Him who went about doing good. I like that 
song you sing here sometimes, 

‘ There are lonely hearts to cherish, 

While the days are going by.’ 

“ My dear friends, I can ’t talk smooth and 
nice like most of you can, but my heart is full 


COMING OUT.” 


227 


of love to-night, and I ’d like to do something to 
show it.” 

She found this feeling reciprocated, for hearts 
went out in love, and kind voices welcomed her, 
and their owners wondered that they could ever 
have been indifferent to this good woman. 

At the same hour, miles away, dear little Fay 
was relating her experience. 

“I do not know anything about theolo- 
gy,” she said ; “ but I do know that my life is 
changed. My greatest sin was thoughtlesness. 
I did not stop to think that I was grieving my 
Saviour by leading a carelessly happy, butter- 
fly life. I was only negatively good. But when 
r saw it I could not rest until I was forgiven, 
and now I am positively happy, and I desire to 
live so that all will take knowledge of me that 
I have been with Jesus, as they did of the disci- 
ples in the olden time. My heart goes out in 
loving gratitude to the dear school friend who 
urged me to leave my frivolous way and accept 
the life which is hid with Christ in God.” 

And so, these two pilgrims, one of whom had 
trodden a hard rough path and was at times 
well nigh discouraged, and the other whose 
pathway had been lined with flowers, started 
on their new way, and entered through the 
‘‘ wicket gate,” together, and the angels rejoiced 
equally over both. 


228 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

The Eliots and the Bradleighs were waiting 
on the broad piazza of the Evansville hotel, 
when, a few days later, Mrs. Broad, Lucy, Will, 
and Hazel stepped from the coach. 

Mrs. Broad was delighted with the place, a 
large house filled with fashionable people, all 
semingly bent on having a good time. 

Her pleasure was somewhat dimmed, how- 
ever, as the days went by and Lucy formed but 
few acquaintances. Her beauty attracted much 
attention, but if she saw it she paid no heed, 
but spent hours with her books in some shady 
nook on the beach. 

Her step-mother looked on with feelings of 
great dissatisfaction until she saw that Margaret 
began to accompany her, and soon Amy and the 
three young men joined them, and people look- 
ing on called them exclusive, and wondered why 
they came there if they were “ too good to asso 
ciate with folks,” and still admired them, for 
they were always courteous and pleasant. 

'‘Don’t you dance?” inquired Mrs. Broad of 
Margaret one evening when seated on the piazza, 
as the sound of music came from the hall. 

“ If you mean do I know how to dance, yes,” 
she replied. " If you mean do I ever attend 
balls, no. If you refer to assemblies like the one 
now in the hall, usually, no : and never unless I 
know the company.” 



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COMING OUT.’ 


229 


“ I think one must be at a loss for enjoyment 
to resort to amusement of that kind,” said Roger, 
with a scornful accent. “ I think the Chinaman 
is sensible when he hires some one to dance for 
him.” 

“Lucy never dances,” replied Mrs. Broad, 
with a little touch of triumph in her tone, and 
after that she was content to allow her to pursue 
her own way in the matter, unmolested. 

The party of six took strolls on the sands 
and excursions on the water, and people said 
that “ Roger Bradleigh admired Lucy Broad,” 
and Mrs. Broad was pleased and Will- was 
troubled. 

Amy and Harry evidently gave no thought 
to the affairs of others, but expressed themselves 
as delighted with the place, and Margaret looked 
complacently on, but how Lucy felt no one could 
tell. 

So the summer passed ; the vacation ended, 
and Mrs. Broad had so much to do for the com- 
ing season, and said the young people would be 
separated but a short time, for they must all 
come to Lucy’s party in December; and then*, 
they would all be together for several weeks 
during the holiday season so as to be able to 
attend the other pleasant occasions. All were 
profuse in their words of pleasurable anticipation 
excepting Margaret, whose words were never 


230 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

profuse, and Lucy, whose face was as impertur- 
bable as her words were non-committal. 

In a few days they were all at home again, 
and Lucy enjoyed the brilliant October days ; 
but they soon faded into the dull sombre days of 
November, which were gladly welcomed by Mrs. 
Broad as they brought nearer the time when 
she would be surrounded by gay young friends 
again. 

She had determined that Lucy’s party should 
be the most brilliant one ever given in Oakhurst, 
but she felt troubled to know just how to bring 
about some of the details ; so it was with a per- 
plexed face that she took her place at the dinner 
table one evening. 

She bowed her head while the blessing was 
invoked, poured the coffee silently, evidently 
trying to gather courage for something. 

“ Do you not think,” she said, after a few 
moments, addressing her husband, “ do you not 
think you could waive your prejudice for once, 
and allow us to have a little dancing for the 
young people, on the nineteenth ?” 

Then seeing the look of surprise on his face, 
she hastened to add, “ Of course, Lucy will not 
dance, she never does, nor the Bradleighs and 
some others ; but you know it is my first attempt 
at anything so extended, and I am afraid that as 
the majority of those who will be present are 


“COMING OUT.’* 231 

accustomed to that pleasure, they will not have 
a good time if deprived of it.” 

She knew that her cause was lost, but before 
Mr. Broad could reply. Hazel exclaimed, “ Yes, 
they will, too, ’cause she said, ‘ folks always have 
a good time at the Broads.’ ” Looking at her 
sister she said, “ Lucy, what is you coming out 
of, anyway ?” 

“ Not of good sense, I hope,” replied Lucy 
smiling. ‘‘ I presume you refer to the party to 
be given in December to introduce me to soci- 
ety,” and the brown eyes were full of mirth. 

“Well, she said she ’sposed it would be a 
grand affair, and that the first Mrs. Broad had 
most ’squisite taste, but ’t was very quiet, an’ this 
one was more showy.” 

“ Hazel !” interrupted her father, “ you should 
not repeat what you hear.” 

Mrs. Broad looked in doubt as to whether to 
consider the remark a compliment or the reverse, 
but finally ignored the whole subject by asking 
her husband if he would speak to Desmond in 
the morning. “ You know he has so many en- 
gagements that we must speak in season,” she 
added. 

“ I will speak to Fiske,” replied Mr. Broad 
gravely. 

“ But he is not nearly as popular. You need 
not order wine if that is your objection.” 


232 


LUCY BROAD S CHOICE. 


“His ices are nearly all flavored with liquor. 
I am sorry to disappoint you, but I never employ 
Desmond.” 

“ I think you carry your temperance idea too 
far.” Mrs. Broad’s tone was as usual, but her 
face expressed disappointment. “ I fear our 
guests will think we furnish but second-rate 
entertainment.” 

“ No, they won’t,” maintained Hazel stoutly, 
“ ’cause she said the Broads always had some- 
thing nice, an’ different from other folks, an’ she 
did n’t see why others did n’t too.” 

Her step-mother looked pleased. 

“Your words are ambiguous,” she said, and 
then her curiosity gained the victory. “ Who is 
this wonderful she you have quoted so many 
times?” she inquired. 

“ Why, Miss Perkins and Miss French,” re- 
plied Hazel, regardless alike of person and 
number. 

“ How happened you to hear their conver- 
sation ?” inquired Lucy. 

“ I went over to play with Mamie, and we 
was behind the port in air, and she went up- 
stairs to get her best dollie, an’ I ’spose they 
didn’t know but I went too.” 

“ I presume you took pains to let them know 
you were still there,” said the father comically. 

The brown eyes twinkled and the dimples 


“COMING out/' 233 

played hide-and-seek as their owner said, “I 
did n’t make much noise.” 

“ Hazel, I have told you a great many times 
that you ought not to repeat what you happen 
to overhear.” 

For reply Hazel glanced at her step-mother, 
and her father interpreting the look, said no 
more at the time. 

Mrs. Broad called Lucy into her room the 
next morning, and after motioning her to be 
seated, said, “ Lucy, I think you are very odd. 
Most young ladies who were to give a party so 
soon would talk of nothing else, and you seldom 
mention it.” 

Now Lucy was not unlike others in this re- 
spect, but knowing that her ideas on many things 
were so different from her step-mother’s, often 
thought it was wiser to remain quiet than to 
have a wordy conflict of wills. Knowing that 
the charge against her at this time implied 
something special, and resolving that she would 
not be . betrayed into the utterance of unkind 
words, she said, “ I feel as though everything 
was tending toward a perfect consummation of 
the desired end.” 

“ I think so too, but some one must work for 
the perfection of the end. Now you have not said 
one word about your dress, so I took the liberty 
to send for some patterns and I think this deli- 


234 


LUCY BROAD S CHOICE. 


cate pink silk would be extremely becoming to 
you.” 

Lucy’s face did not betray the fact that this 
subject was one she particularly wished to avoid, 
and her tone was very gentle as she replied, 
“ There is need to give very little thought to it 
as I have already bought the dress, and the 
material is in Madam Safford’s hands.” 

Mrs. Broad looked hurt and indignant, but 
her tone was low and sweet as usual as she said, 
“ I suppose you thought my taste not worth con- 
sulting. May I ask what your choice is, or am 
I too insignificant for you to bestow any confi- 
dence upon me ?” 

“ The dress is white.” 

“A heavy white corded silk would not be 
bad ; but why did you not advise with me ?” 

“ Because,” said Lucy candidly, and for the 
first time doubting the wisdom of her procedure, 
“ I know that you would not agree with me. 
The material I have selected is not silk but In- 
dia muslin.” 

'‘Why, Lucy! your guests will be much 
better dressed than you.” 

“ Which is just as it should be. Now, mamma, 
please waive judgement until you see it.” 

No one knew what it cost Lucy to utter that 
word ; her whole nature rebelled against it, but 
she was really anxious that things should be 


COMING OUT.’ 


235 


pleasant in the home, and that her life should 
show that she was keeping in mind the promise 
of that New Year’s evening as she stood by the 
window of her room in the Academy talking 
with Dorothy. 

She felt in a measure compensated by the 
look of glad surprise which flashed in her step- 
mother’s face, and the conciliatory tone in which 
she said, “ I think, perhaps, that would be the 
better way.” 

The result proved her decision wise, for as 
she stood in Lucy’s room on the eventful even- 
ing, neither her critical eye nor her fastidious 
taste could discern anything with which to find 
fault. The simple white dress with its full 
skirt and sleeves, and the cluster of pale pink 
roses at the throat, was very becoming, and the 
pure face with its calm yet brilliant beauty, 
needed nothing to enhance it. 

So others seemed to think, and Mrs. Broad 
was much pleased with the compliments which 
she could not help overhearing. 

Standing by Lucy and replying to the many 
pleasant remarks of friends and acquaintances, 
she watched anxiously to see whether all seemed 
to enjoy themselves. 

Her mind was soon relieved of all trouble on 
that point. Mr. Broad and Will allowed no one 
to feel neglected or lonely. They had the happy 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


236 

faculty of bringing congenial spirits together, 
and gay laughter and merry repartee from dif- 
ferent groups soon proclaimed that the object of 
the evening was attained. 

Fay flitted about like a veritable fairy, and 
Margaret in her stately way added her part to 
the general good time. Sarah’s flne face and 
Dorothy’s sweet, shy manner attracted much at- 
tention, and Amy, feeling the responsibility of 
the reputation of the family, did her best to 
make every one feel at home. 

But an entertainment, not on the programme, 
was in preparation. Hazel had begged earnest- 
ly to be allowed to sit up and see Lucy “ come 
out,” but her father wisely told her it was not 
good for little girls to sit up late, and taking her 
to the drawing-room that she might see the 
flowers, and then to the dining-room, and prom- 
ising her plenty of good things on the morrow, 
he gave her in charge of Rose, telling her if she 
were a good girl she should have a little party 
all her own on her birthday. 

Rose undressed her charge, and placing her 
comfortably in her crib, went to another cham- 
ber to assist the ladies in removing their wraps, 
buttoning their gloves, etc. 

Hazel lay with wide open eyes, listening to 
the murmur of voices from different parts of the 
house, wondering what the people were laughing 


COMING OUT/' 


at, as sounds of merriment mingling with the 
music floated through the halls to her ears. 

“ I guess I ’ll just go and see,” she said to 
herself ; and rising, she made a toilette which 
seemed to her to be suitable for the occasion. 

Mrs. Broad was busily talking with a group 
of ladies and gentlemen when she felt a sudden 
silence in the room, and turning to ascertain the 
cause, saw a little figure coming towards her. 

The bright curls pushed carelessly aside re- 
vealed a placid baby brow, the brown eyes spark- 
led and the sweet face was wreathed in dimpling 
smiles. 

She had arrayed herself in her best waist, of 
pale yellow silk, and had pinned a golden-brown 
skirt of Lucy’s around her waist, looping the 
front artistically to suit her small height, and 
leaving the back breadth to follow, en train. 

She walked to her sister’s side saying, “ I 
wanted to see Lucy come out,” and then while 
her step-mother stood undecided whether to 
feel vexed or pleased, the room resounded with 
exclamations of admiration. 

“ What a handsome child !” “ The little dar- 
ling !” Is she not a beauty !” and one after 
another greeted her as they had Lucy earlier in 
the evening. 

Mrs. Broad was in no doubt now, as to the 
state of her feelings. She was delighted. Here 


238 LUCY broad’s choice. 

was something unique. Something no one else 
had ever had at a party. There was an added 
impetus to the “ good time ” ; there had been no 
lack before, but this — and Mrs. Broad congratu- 
lated herself. 

But her joy was of short duration, for Mr. 
Broad looked on gravely for a few moments, and 
then, taking his little daughter by the hand 
said, 

“Now, Hazel, bid the ladies and gentlemen 
good-night, and we will go up-stairs.” 

Now, Hazel, with all her mischief, possessed a 
most excellent disposition, and always expected 
to obey her father, and so, although the dimples 
disappeared and great crystal drops rolled down 
her cheeks, she suffered him to lead her from 
the room, repeating over and over in reply to 
his words of reproof, “ I only wanted to see Lucy 
come out.” 

The moments passed pleasantly after this, 
and Mrs. Broad’s last anxiety was removed 
when she heard Mrs. French remark, as they 
were leaving the supper-room, “ I do not see 
why more people do not employ Fiske. I think 
his suppers excel Desmond’s both in style and 
quality.” 

The clock chimed twelve before the guests 
took their leave, and the great event was over ; 
but its memory was more enduring and Mrs. 


''COMING OUT.” 239 

Broad and Lucy received the congratulations of 
their friends for the next two weeks. 

" They had such a nice time.” " Everything 
went off so well, and that little witch of a Hazel 
crowned the whole.” " The music was fair, the 
flowers beautiful, and the supper superb ;” and 
Mrs. Broad was delighted, and Lucy was some- 
times pleased and often amused, and not infre- 
quently vexed at the profuse flattery ; and then 
they all went to Leicester, and great prepara- 
tions were made for Amy’s party. 

Hazel said, " She did n’t suppose she would 
have a very good time, because she couldn’t 
see cousin Amy come out;” and the result 
proved her theory correct, for she was put to 
bed with the strict injunction not to leave the 
room until morning. 

Lucy and Amy went in to bid her good- 
night and to let her see their dresses, and Amy 
laughed, as after surveying them with critical 
eye, she said, "You looks most as pretty as 
Lucy.” 

"You must do something more than look 
pretty this evening,” Amy said, as they went 
down stairs, "you must do your prettiest to 
make the evening pass pleasantly, and my ' com- 
ing out,’ as Hazel calls it, as grand a success as 
yours was. We must continue to keep up the 
credit of the family, you know.” Which remark 


240 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

was revealed by subsequent events to be need- 
less ; but Lucy followed the injunction and Mrs. 
Broad was much gratified to notice the admir- 
ing glances which followed her as she moved 
gracefully among the crowd with pleasant words 
and smiles for all. 

“ She is the handsomest young lady in the 
room,” she said to herself. “ Amy is pretty, and 
Margaret stately, and Fay is charming, and 
Dorothy sweet, and Sarah brilliant, but Lucy 
possesses all these desirable qualities.” Her sat- 
isfaction reached its climax when Roger Brad- 
leigh waited upon her to the supper-room, and 
then she watched with trembling anxiety for 
the result. 

The room was brilliantly lighted, and cut- 
glass and silver caught and reflected the rays of 
the chandelier, while sparkling champagne and 
ruby claret added richness of color. 

Mrs. Broad saw the change which came over 
Lucy’s face, and noticed the firm manner with 
which she reversed her glasses. It mattered 
nothing to her that Dorothy and Fay quickly 
followed her example. She saw the curl of 
Margaret’s lip and the curious glances directed 
to the trio, and then, did her eyes deceive her ? 
no ! Roger, with a questioning glance at Lucy, 
turned his glasses to keep company with hers. 

It made no difference to her now what oth- 


COMING OUT.” 


241 


ers thoupfht ; but she did not hear the remarks 
of two young men as they left the supper-room 
half an hour later. 

“Say, Ned! what possessed Bradleigh to- 
night? he is usually fond of another kind of 
spirit. 

“Well, Frank, you are not very observing. 
Don’t you know that Roger has some very 
Broad views lately, on some things ?” 

“ Really, I did not suppose that he would 
trim his sails to suit any one. ” 

“ He is evidently trimming his sails ; whether 
he will suit or not remains to be seen. In my 
opinion the lady is hard to please, and Roger 
will have to give up more than wine drinking 
before there will be a shadow of success.” 

Others than her step-mother noticed that 
while light ripples of laughter filled the room, 
Lucy's face grew grave, and although she was 
perfectly courteous to all she seemed to have 
no farther zest for the pleasures of the even- 
ing. 

She left the supper-table as soon as she could, 
and going to the drawing-room pushed aside 
the heavy drapery from one of the windows and 
stood looking out into the starry stillness. 

She had been there but a few moments when 
Dorothy’s hand was laid on her arm, and Doro- 
thy’s voice said, “ Oh, Lucy ! come quickly !” 

16 


242 LUCY broad’s choice. 

Lucy turned and followed her without a 
word through the room and across the hall to 
the library. 

Standing in the centre of the room, with 
crimson cheeks and sparkling eyes, stood Sarah. 
One hand rested upon the back of a chair, evi- 
dently for support. Opposite stood a group of 
three or four young men, who were plying her 
with questions and laughing at her incoherent 
and inane replies. 

In a moment Lucy confronted them, her face 
full of indignation, and in a voice of intense 
scorn exclaimed, Shame T 

They looked at her in amazement, noting 
the fine figure and pure face, and then their 
glances fell before the light in her brown eyes. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said one, and then 
paused, evidently at a loss for words. 

“ You have need to ; and not only mine, but 
that of every woman in this assembly. We 
will excuse your further attendance,” and she 
watched them as with shamed faces they left 
the room. 

Then, turning to Sarah, she laid her hand 
on her arm, and in a tone of command said, 
“ Come !” 

'‘Where you wan’ me to go?” muttered Sa- 
rah incoherently. 

“ With me,” said Lucy briefly. 


COMING OUT.” 


243 


Sarah hesitated, then tried to obey, taking 
a few steps forward and staggering in the at- 
tempt. 

Dorothy took hold of her other arm, and 
with great difficulty they succeeded in getting 
her up stairs. 

Curious glances followed them as they passed 
through the hall, and questioning voices ex- 
claimed, “ What is the matter ? Is Miss Bennett 
ill ?” But Lucy motioned them away, feeling 
that she could not reply. 

“ Ask Will to order Sarah’s carriage,” she 
said to Dorothy as she placed Sarah in a chair 
and proceeded to find her wraps. 

In a few moments she heard her brother’s 
step at the door, and answered his look of in- 
quiry by saying, “ Help me get her down the 
back way.” 

At first Sarah refused to go. “ Lemme ’lone,” 
she said ; “I’m having a good time ; I do n’t 
want to go home.” 

By dint of coaxing and commanding she was 
finally placed in her carriage, Lucy and Will 
following. 

They drove rapidly, and fortunately the dis- 
tance was short. The bell was answered by 
Mrs. Bennett, and Lucy wondered if she always 
waited her daughter’s return at night, but was 
soon convinced by the look of alarm on her face 


244 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

that if she did, she had never seen her in this 
condition before. 

“ What is the matter ?” she asked with white 
lips. 

Lucy could not reply, but going into the 
sitting-room, they placed their burden on the 
lounge, for she was nearly helpless by this time- 

Her rich opera cloak fell in soft folds around 
her, her white jewelled hands hung limp by her 
side, and her heavy breathing soon proclaimed 
her asleep. Her mother stood looking at her, 
seemingly powerless to move or speak. Did 
she suspect the truth? Lucy could not tell. 
Suddenly a deep groan caused them to look 
around. Mr. Bennett had entered the room so 
quietly that they had not heard his step. 

“ Frank, what is it ; what is the matter ?” 
questioned Mrs. Bennett, her anxiety and fear 
showing in her tone. 

She is drunk !” replied her husband, his 
voice filled with anguish. 

Lucy never forgot the expression of that 
mother’s face as she wailed forth, “Oh, I did 
not wish her to go ; I knew they would have 
wine. Oh, my child ! my child ! that I should 
live to see you come to this ! They little knew 
what they were doing when they put the spark- 
ling temptation in your way !” She sank down 
by the lounge as she finished, hiding her face in 


COMING OUT.” 


24s 

her hands, and Lucy and Will quietly withdrew, 
feeling that they had no words for a grief like 
this. 

The sound of music and laughter seemed 
like mockery to them as they entered their un- 
cle’s house again, but they joined the gay com- 
pany, and no one, looking into Lucy’s pale face, 
dared ask her a question. 

She was affable and courteous to all, joining 
in the conversation ; but a certain intangible 
something, a sweet, graceful dignity and reserve 
shielded her from all remarks and queries. 

She was glad when the last guest departed 
and the evening was ended. She went to her 
room as soon as she could escape from Amy’s 
chatter, and seating herself in an easy chair, 
gave herself up to thought. What was her 
duty ? How could she be in the world and not 
of it? How was she to do just right and not be 
deemed eccentric? And what if she were, if 
only conscience approved ? 

Many ways presented themselves to her 
mind only to be dismissed as impracticable. 
She could not decide ; she could only wait sub- 
sequent events — wait and pray. 


246 


LUCY BROAD*S CHOICE. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

WHO WAS TO BLAME? 

Lucy was the last one to enter the breakfast- 
room the next morning. She found the family 
engaged in earnest conversation, evidently dis- 
cussing the events of the previous evening. 

“ I thought everything was lovely,” Amy was 
saying. “ I did not see but the guests enjoyed 
themselves, and all went off well.” 

“ Yes,” replied her brother, “ I thought Sarah 
Bennett went off remarkably well, considering.” 

“ That had nothing to do with us,” said Amy 
quickly. I think she ought to be ashamed of 
herself.” 

“ I am sure she afforded as much amusement 
for your party as Hazel did for Lucy’s, only of 
a different kind. I assure you some of the fel- 
lows were greatly entertained.” 

“ Did you see her in the library ?” inquired 
Lucy, with scorn for her cousin in her tone. 

“ Not when you came in like a very Neme- 
sis,” and Harry laughed a little uneasily. 

‘‘Will you tell me what this is all about? 
What did Sarah do ?” inquired Mrs. Eliot. 

“ Disgraced herself,” replied Amy, trucu- 
lently 


WHO WAS TO BLAME? 


24; 


“ I wish you would cease speaking in enig- 
mas and explain your words. I am sure Sarah 
is handsome ; her parents are wealthy and they 
stand very high.” 

“ I thought Sarah was high last evening,” 
and Harry laughed at what he considered a very 
witty remark. 

“Will you tell me what you mean ?” repeated 
his mother. 

“ Yes ’m. Sarah was drunk, your honor. 
But as it was her first offence, I hope the 
court will be considerate and pass a light sen- 
tence.” 

“ Harry, how can you be so coarse ? do stop 
joking and tell me the truth.” 

“ I am not joking. Ask Amy.” 

“ Yes, it is true, and I think it is a shame.” 

“ I am surprised,” exclaimed Mrs. Eliot. “ I 
declare, it is outrageous,” she continued, her in- 
dignation getting the better of her. “ I would 
not have had it happen in my house for any- 
thing.” 

“ But it afforded amusement, I tell you.” 

“ Harry, I never knew you to be so ungentle- 
manly before. I think it is a shame.” 

“ What ?” inquired Mr. Broad meaningly. 

“ Why, that any one, especially a young lady, 
should so forget herself,” replied Mrs. Eliot, 
ignoring his meaning if she saw it. 


248 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ Does it pay, just for a fashion, to put temp- 
tation in any person’s way ?” 

“ I am sure I did not dream that Sarah would 
be tempted in the least.” 

“ And if she were,” said Mr. Eliot, “ that was 
her fault, not ours. Shall the whole of society 
deprive itself of a harmless pleasure because one 
person is so stupid ? Such a case as hers is ex- 
tremely rare — almost unheard of.” 

“ Oh, do n’t discuss that wornout question,” 
exclaimed Amy. “ If people have no more 
sense than to act as Sarah did last evening-, it is 
time they did. Lucy showed resentment enough 
for the whole family.” 

“ Amy,” and Lucy’s tone presented a striking 
contrast to her cousin’s, “ if you could have seen 
the anguish of her father, I think you would be 
willing to banish wine for ever from your enter- 
tainments, and use all your influence against it. 
The whole evening’s enjoyment was lost, over- 
balanced by that one great sorrow.” 

“ I hope you are disagreeable enough, Lucy 
Broad,” said Amy, half crying. “ You had bet- 
ter ask my father if he will comply with your 
unreasonable request.” 

‘‘ Not to-day,” and Mr. Eliot looked round the 
table complacently. “ I do not believe in the 
free use of wine, but on festive occasions, like 
last evening, I think it proper to have it, and peo- 


WHO WAS TO BLAME? 


249 

pie who do not know any better than to misuse 
it had better remain at home. It certainly shows 
a very weak mind to be so easily overcome.” 

And having delivered this very poor logic, 
Mr. Eliot devoted his attention to his breakfast 
as though the whole question were for ever and 
irrevocably settled. 

“ I wish you could have seen Lucy last even- 
ing,” said Harry, laughing. “She went into 
the library like an angry queen, and completely 
squelched Ned. Edwards, Ben. Banvard, and 
Cecil Flanders.” 

“ I should think Lucy was the one to be 
ashamed then,” replied Amy crossly. 

Lucy waited a moment, looking with steady 
eyes at her cousin, and then in a calm tone 
touched with sadness, said, 

“ Uncle Eliot, for the sake of those who may 
not be as strong as I am, I feel that I cannot be 
present in your dining-room again when there 
is wine on the table, if I know it.” 

“ Lucy,” said her step-mother, real distress 
showing through her usual tone. 

• “ Hoity, toity,” said her uncle, elevating his 
eyebrows, “ I do n’t know which will lose the 
most, you or the dining room.” 

“ What will you do with other people’s dining- 
rooms ? Next week, for instance, at Margaret’s ?” 
inquired Amy. 


250 


LUCY broad's choice. 


Lucy hesitated and then replied firmly, “ I 
have accepted her invitation and shall go ; but I 
will not be present in the supper-room if they 
have wine.” 

“ Oh, Lucy !” exclaimed her step-mother again, 
but her words and Amy’s “ how horrid,” were 
drowned by Harry’s laugh. 

“ I think such a course on your part will an- 
swer one purpose of society ; it will create quite 
a sensation when my handsome and accom- 
plished cousin turns crank and refuses the light 
of her presence where the ruby wine sparkles. 
We had one sensation here ; look out for another 
next Wednesday night. Won’t my lady Marga- 
ret frown !” 

Lucy opened her lips but closed them again 
resolutely, before a word passed them, and was 
much relieved when Hazel said, '‘Oh, dear 
me suz! wont somebody please give me some 
more griddle cakes with lots of maple syrup 
on ’em ?” 

“ Excuse me,” said her aunt, smiling, “ I 
have been very remiss in my duty as hostess,” 
and she supplied the little one’s wants in a per- 
fectly satisfactory manner, and then the conver- 
sation took the light and pleasant tone which 
usually characterized the family gatherings 
around the table. 

“ Where are you going ?” inquired Amy an 


WHO WAS TO BLAME? 


251 

hour or two later, as she met Lucy in the hall 
dressed for a walk. 

“To see Margaret,” replied her cousin, clos- 
ing the outside door with the last word. 

“ What is she going there for at this time in 
the morning?” and Amy looked suspiciously at 
Dorothy, but that young lady shook her head. 

“ She is up to something, I ’ll warrant you,” 
continued Amy, more to herself than her com- 
panion. “Well, Margaret is equal to her. I 
would like to be there and see the fun if they 
clash.” 

Lucy evidently did not find it “ fun.” Mar- 
garet was at home and looked surprised at the 
expression of Lucy’s face. 

“What has gone wrong?” she inquired. 
“You look solemn enough to compete with the 
owls.” 

“ I feel solemn,” replied Lucy, and then with 
characteristic straight-forwardness, added. “ Oh, 
Margaret ! won’t you do away with wine next 
Wednesday evening ?” 

Margaret was surprised into opening her 
gray eyes wide. “ Why do you care ? You 
never use it, so it can make no possible differ- 
ence to you.” 

“ But it does. I was made thoroughly un- 
happy last evening, and my heart aches to-day 
because of its use.” 


252 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

Margaret frowned. Who was to blame, I 
would like to know? I feel inclined to send 
Sarah Bennett word to stay at home, even if she 
has replied to my invitation in the affirmative, 
if she cannot behave herself decently.” 

“ Would it not be better to remove tempta- 
tion from her way ?” 

Margaret’s eyes flashed and her lips curled, 
but she waited a moment before she said coldly. 
Were it any one but you, Lucy, I would hardly 
take the trouble to reply. But I will do justice 
to your usual good sense and ask you again, 
who was to blame for the occurrence of last 
evening ? those who so kindly provided a pleas- 
ant entertainment, or one foolish girl who had 
not sense enough to appreciate it, but must needs 
disgrace herself and shame her hostess? No,” 
putting up her hand, “ you need not reply. I 
know all you would say about not putting temp- 
tation in the way of another, but that does no 
real good ; all those old worn out platitudes I 
know by heart, every one of them, and I do not 
care to waste my time in a dissertation on the 
subject. You had better speak to my father 
about the supper, and see if he would think a 
party given by him would be complete without 
wine.” 

“ Where is he ?” inquired Lucy rising. 

In the library,” replied Margaret, surprised 


WHO WAS TO BLAME? 253 

that her words should be taken literally, and 
that her companion should dare think of going 
to him on that or any subject upon which he 
had expressed decided views; but Lucy felt 
that something must be done to save Sarah, and 
although she shrank with dread from such an 
interview with such a person, she bade Mar- 
garet a quiet “good morning,” crossed the 
hall and paused a moment before the open 
door. 

The judge was seated by his desk reading 
the daily paper; and Lucy was impressed as 
never before with his fine figure and stately 
bearing, imposing even in repose. A feeling 
of sorrow filled her heart that his great talent 
should be used in the wrong direction ; and 
then there came a thought which drove the 
color from her cheeks, and fearing that her cour- 
age would fail her entirely she knocked, with a 
nervous timidity she seldom felt. 

Judge Bradleigh rose and courteously made 
her welcome, expressing his pleasure at seeing 
her, a little tone of inquiry in his voice, for he 
evidently thought that she had some special 
object in coming. 

Poor Lucy found it no easy task to prefer 
her request, and but for the thought of Sarah 
would have left it unuttered; but gathering 
courage and leaving all preliminaries she said. 


254 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

“ Judge Bradleigh, I have come to ask a favor 
of you.” 

“ I suppose that I ought to say, ‘ speak on, 
fair lady, and I will grant it to the half of my 
kingdom,’ but I do not think that the words 
would show good sense or be particularly pleas- 
ing to you, as I give you credit for possessing 
rare judgment and imperviousness to flattery.” 

Lucy bowed, as with trembling lips she 
said, “ I would give half a kingdom, did I pos- 
sess it, if all my friends were willing to comply 
with my wish, which is, that wine should not 
furnish a part of their entertainments on fest- 
ive occasions; and I would be, oh, so glad, if 
you would set the example next Wednesday 
night.” 

Judge Bradleigh prided himself on never be- 
ing disconcerted under any circumstances, and 
there were reasons of his own why he particu- 
larly wished to please Lucy ; therefore her re- 
quest annoyed him and his face expressed as 
much surprise as he ever allowed to appear there 
as he said, 

“ My dear young lady, I was not prepared 
for anything of this kind ; it certainly would 
seem very odd ” — and then he paused, remem- 
bering that Mr. Broad never allowed anything 
of the kind on his own table, and no one ascribed 
the reason to oddity. 


WHO WAS TO BLAME? 


255 


The judge was amazed at himself that he 
was at a loss what reply to make, and realized 
that it would not have been so had the request 
been preferred by any other person. 

Lucy, understanding the cause of his embar- 
rassment more than he cared to have her, has- 
tened to add, “ I do not make the request for my 
own benefit, for in one way it does not affect me 
at all ; but there are others less fortunate,” (the 
judge opened his eyes with a look of surprise ; 
he had not been accustomed to such plain speak- 
ing) “ and it is for those I plead at this time 
and she related what had transpired at her cous- 
in’s. 

“ The more shame on her !” replied the judge 
indignantly. “ Who was to blame ? Certainly 
not Miss Eliot, for Miss Bennett has been well 
brought up. I do not know a more worthy man 
than her father, and I certainly hope she will 
remain at home next Wednesday, if she cannot 
do credit to her family, and has lost all respect 
for herself.” 

Almost the same words that Margaret had 
used ; Lucy knew that her case was lost and 
said no more, but her heart beat rapidly as she 
realized that she had another duty to perform, 
and that the thought which caused the color to 
leave her cheeks before she entered the room 
must be uttered ; and fearing that she should 


256 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


lose all courage if she delayed, she exclaimed, 
“ Oh, Judge Bradleigh, there is one request I 
wish to make for my own sake, or rather for 
yours. Wont you give up your scepticism and 
accept Jesus of Nazareth as your personal Sav- 
iour?” 

Here was directness, and the Judge appre- 
ciated and admired the courage displayed, for 
he could read human nature and knew that it 
was not easy for Lucy to utter those words, 
knew that there were few who would have spo- 
ken them even if they had considered it a mat- 
ter of duty. He had often wondered why people 
who professed so much should be so unwilling 
to make their ideas known to others, especially 
if they really believed that so much depended 
upon convincing people like himself that they 
were wrong. He had argued a great many times 
on questions of theology, but this was a direct 
and personal appeal. However, he would treat 
it in a general way. He was sure he could an- 
swer the question and annihilate all the argu- 
ments of this young girl as fast as she could 
utter them. What did she know about such 
deep subjects ? she was young and had probably 
never looked into the matter for herself ; and 
he leaned back in his chair with a complacent 
smile and said he did not believe the Bible, that 
is, as some people accepted it. It was a good 


WHO WAS TO BLAME? 2 ^^ 

history, but its theories had been proven incor- 
rect by such great minds as Voltaire, Paine, and 
many other men of learning in our own day. 
It did not agree with science, and he himself 
had given much thought to it and found that it 
often contradicted itself.” 

And then he fluently explained why various 
statements could not be true. 

Lucy heard him through without a word, 
inwardly striving for patience ; and with a heart 
full of longing that all this great erudition and 
talent should be turned in the right direction. 

The Judge paused at last, and sat waiting her 
reply with a look that plainly said that no words 
which any one could use would be able to con- 
fute his theories, and if Lucy attempted it he 
was ready to meet her at every point. 

But the morning seemed to be full of sur- 
prises to this self-contained gentleman. Lucy 
made no attempt to argue, or to meet his objec- 
tions. Instead she said very gently, I know 
that all these people whom you have mentioned 
are wrong, and so are you. They are talking 
about that of which they know nothing. They 
have never tested the truths of the Bible experi- 
mentally, have never known the truths of Chris- 
tianity personally, and I have. Do not ascribe my 
words to arrogance or presumption,” she added, 
seeing the look of amazement on the face of her 

17 


258 LUCY broad’s choice. 

companion, “ but the Bible says, ^ The Spirit it- 
self beareth witness with our spirit, that we are 
the children of God and those words have been 
fulfilled in me, and all the arguments that can 
be spoken cannot take that knowledge from me 
nor disprove it in the least. The Saviour, before 
he left the earth, said, ‘ Peace I leave with you, 
my peace I give unto you ; not as the world giv- 
eth, give I unto you,’ and I know that is true. I 
have had the peace which the world gives, my 
cup has been full of it, but it is not to be com- 
pared with the peace of a heart forgiven and 
accepted through the merits of the Redeemer. 
I testify of that which I do know'" 

What could the courtly gentleman say ? He 
could never so far forget himself as to contradict 
a lady, especially when that lady was one whom 
he was anxious to please ; besides, he had no 
words ready to disprove what she said, no argu- 
ment for one who would not contend. 

We are not all constituted alike,” he finally 
replied. “ I cannot, do not, believe as you do. 
I do not believe, for instance, that the world 
was made in six days. Why, geologists tell 
us that it took ages to bring it to a state of per- 
fection, that — ” 

But something in the brown eyes caused him 
to pause. Their owner did not advance any of 
the many theories which she had read upon 


WHO WAS TO BLAME? 259 

that question, but said, “ It does not make any 
difference what any one believes. God's word is 
true. I have proved it over and over. Oh, my 
dear sir, thinking we are right does not make it 
so. I read a few days ago that one dark night 
a man who was about to leave a steamboat saw 
what he supposed to be the gang-plank, but it 
was only a shadow. He stepped out upon it, and 
of course fell into the water. He thought he was 
taking the right way, but his thinking so could 
not make any difference in the result. It is just 
so in this matter. You must be right, not merely 
suppose you are right, if you are to avoid the con- 
sequences. This man might have put it to proof 
whether it was the gang-plank or not before 
trusting himself upon it. Is it well to be like 
him ? Is it not wiser to test beliefs and see if 
they are well grounded ? Many a one has fol- 
lowed his own ideas of what is right, instead of 
taking God’s word as a guide, and has found 
that he has stepped upon a shadow — and fallen. 

Judge Bradleigh, you have been trying to 
do what you would allow no lawyer to do who 
was pleading a case before you : you have been 
trying to prove a negative. You would not allow 
a prisoner to be condemned on the evidence of 
witnesses who were not conversant with the facts 
of the case. You would demand knowledge 
from the parties giving the evidence.” 


26o 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“That is true, very true,” replied the Judge, 
obliged to be honest ; “ but if I follow what I 
think is right, I shall be held blameless.” 

Lucy shook her head, feeling that all her 
words had been vain, and then made one more 
appeal. , 

“Oh, Judge Bradleigh,” she said, “many a 
man has stood before you, waiting with trem- 
bling heart to hear his sentence from your lips ; 
he probably hoped that he would be acquitted — 
perhaps thought that he would, but that made 
no difference to you. If it was proven that he 
had broken the law there was but one course for 
you to pursue. He may have thought he was 
right in the act he committed, but that did not 
avert the consequences ; and, my dear sir, wheth- 
er you believe it or not, we all have got to stand 
before a higher tribunal, there to give an ac- 
count of the deeds done in this life of probation, 
and receive our sentence from the Judge of all 
the world. 

“ Shall it be the ‘ Well done ’ ? I am only a 
young girl, lacking your experience and erudi- 
tion, but I know whom I have believed, and ‘ am 
persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, 
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things pres- 
ent, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, 
nor any other creature, shall be able to separate ’ 
me ‘ from the love of God, which is in Christ 


WHO Was to blame? 261 

Jesus, my Lord.’ And, oh, I wish you to share 
this blessed knowledge with me. Wont you 
come and receive eternal life ?” 

Lucy had risen while she spoke, and her face 
emphasized the earnest desire expressed by her 
words. Her eyes were filled with tears and the 
gloved hand which rested on the mosaic table 
trembled visibly. 

The Judge also rose, wondering within him- 
self that her words touched him so. 

“ It will not be your fault,” he said, bowing 
gravely, “ if I do not receive the meed of praise 
to which you refer. Yoji have done your duty 
faithfully and I respect and thank you for it. I 
only wonder that people who think or believe as 
you do can sit still in their pews and make no 
effort to bring others to a like state of mind or 
feeling. I like consistency even in a mistaken 
cause, and your life certainly conforms to your 
ideas.” 

Lucy wondered if this keen, shrewd and far- 
sighted man realized the inconsistency of his 
own words. If he did he gave no sign, and after 
waiting a moment she turned and slowly walked, 
from the room and left the house without seeing 
Margaret again. 

Judge Bradleigh resumed his place and sat 
quietly for a long time. He tried to recall 
all the conversation, but the solemn words. 


262 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ Whether you believe it or not we all have got 
to stand before a higher tribunal,” filled his 
mind to the exclusion of all others, until to 
rid himself of them he went down town to his 
office. 


CHAPTER XV. 

“ ourr 

Mrs. Broad took her place in Mrs. Brad- 
leigh’s drawing-room the following Wednesday 
evening with mingled feelings of pleasure and 
apprehension. She had never seen Lucy look 
better. There was a certain indefinable sweet- 
ness in her face and grace in her movements 
which she had not noticed before, and she saw 
with gratification that other eyes followed her 
step-daughter with admiring glances. 

Lucy seemed wholly unconscious of the fact, 
however, and had a pleasant word for all, and 
the moments flew quickly by until the supper- 
room was opened, and then Mrs. Broad saw Roger 
step quickly to Lucy’s side, and knew by the 
look of surprised disappointment in his face that 
he had asked permission to be her escort to the 
table and had been refused. 

She lingered until most of the guests had left 
the room, and was somewhat mollified to see Fay 
and Will take their places by her, and then 
thoroughly disturbed when Dorothy and Her- 
man joined the trio ; and it was with rather a 
disconsolate face that she took her place at the 
table with the others. 


264 LUCY broad’s choice. 

If the little group who remained in the draw- 
ing-room were missed no one made it apparent, 
and soon light laughter and merry voices min- 
gled with the tinkling of glass and silver floated 
across the hall. 

Fay made a wry face. “ Costs something to 
stand by your convictions,” she said, smacking 
her lips. 

They laughed at her a little, but all were too 
anxious to converse much, and watched with 
troubled faces for the people to return to the 
drawing-room. 

They came after a while in groups, and Lucy 
took her place by the door eagerly waiting. 

Sarah was the last to leave the supper-room, 
and Lucy knew by the flushed cheeks and spark- 
ling eyes why she had lingered. 

She came directly to Lucy’s side, and catch- 
ing hold of her hand peremptorily said, “ Send 
for my carriage immediately, while I have sense 
enough left to get home.” 

Lucy motioned to her brother and then led 
the way through the crowded hall to the stairs. 

Curious glances followed them, for Sarah’s 
gait was becoming unsteady, and inquisitive 
voices again exclaimed, “What is the matter? 
Is Miss Bennett subject to ill turns ? Can we be 
of any assistance ?” 

Lucy paid no heed, but with trembling fin- 


OUT. 


gers fastened Sarah’s wraps and attended her to 
the door where her brother met them, and then 
returned to the drawing-room. 

But she did not escape questioning as she 
had on the previous occasion, for she was im- 
mediately surrounded by a bevy of young ladies 
who regarded her with looks of curiosity and 
expectancy. 

“ Is Miss Bennett really ill ?” demanded 
number one. 

“ She did not feel able to remain longer,” re- 
plied Lucy. 

‘‘Is she subject to such attacks?” queried 
number two. 

“ I think it is something recent.” Lucy was 
growing restive, fearing she might be obliged 
to tell the whole truth, when a sympathetic 
voice asked, 

“ Was she faint ?” 

'' Painty' repeated a sneering tone, and Lucy 
dreaded the reply. 

“Why, what do you mean?” came in sur- 
prised cadence from the sympathetic lady. 

“ I mean that people who are faint do not 
usually have red cheeks,” sarcastically replied 
the sneering lady. 

“Will you tell us what is the matter, then ?” 

“ Too much wine.” 

And then there followed a subtle rustling of 


266 


LUCY BROAD S CHOICE. 


dresses as the wearers involuntarily moved a 
step or two and looked at each other, and then 
a medly of feminine Ohs !” 

In the hush that followed Lucy said, Do 
you not pity her ? and is she wholly to blame ? 
Will you not all help her by doing everything 
you can to prevent a recurrence of this sad 
event ?” 

Then in reply to the wondering faces she 
added, “ Oh, my dear friends, we all exert an 
influence for good or evil, for right or wrong ; 
and wont you all use yours against the use of 
wine as a beverage ? wont you ask that it may 
be banished from your homes, and refuse to 
partake of it on all occasions?” 

An amazed silence followed these earnest 
words, and then one found voice to commence, 
“ But, my dear Miss Broad — ” 

But Lucy, feeling that she could control her 
feelings no longer turned away and sought 
refuge in the conservatory, where she was soon 
found by Roger. 

“ I am so sorry that it happened in my home,” 
he said, speaking with plain directness of the 
subject which he knew filled her mind, and 
looking uneasily at the pale face beside him. 

“Would you have preferred it to have oc- 
curred in some other home ?” 

“ Yes,” was his mental reply, but with ready 


OUT.’* 


267 

deceit and trying to suit her mood, he answered, 
“ Oh, as to that it would have been better if it 
had not transpired anywhere.*’ 

“ If you really think so will you not do all in 
your power to prevent a repetition of the scene ? 
This is only the second time that it has occurred, 
and poor Sarah is by no means the only one for 
whom we all should be willing to deny our- 
selves, if it is a denial ; and your influence 
would do much to bring about a better state of 
things in society.” 

“ I will do anything I can to please you.” 

“ I do not wish you to promise just to please 
me,” replied Lucy coldly. “ If you are not con- 
vinced that it is wrong, your promise will 
amount to very little,” and she turned from him, 
taking no notice of the handful of rare flowers 
he held towards her. 

He frowned with vexation as he watched 
her retreating figure. “She is too bright, by 
far,” he said to himself. “ I believe she reads 
my very thoughts. I must do better than 
this.” 

His cogitations were interrupted by some 
one calling, “ Roger, where are you? Half the 
young ladies in the drawing-room are disconso- 
late on account of your absence.” 

He returned with the speaker, and was cour- 
teous and gentlemanly to all, and the merri- 


26s 


LUCY BROAD^S CHOICE. 


ment continued to a late hour. Lucy was 
obliged to smile with the rest even while she 
longed to be at home, and when at last she re- 
turned to her uncle’s it was a long time before 
she could escape to her own room, and still 
longer before she could forget in sleep the 
thoughts which troubled her, for the events of 
the evening must be discussed in all their 
phases. Amy was loud in her denouncements 
of Sarah. 

She will lose her place in society,” she said ; 
“ indeed I would not wonder if she were counted 
' out ’ already, for this is the second time she has 
been obliged to be helped from the room, and 
the reason could not be concealed this time.” 

“ Why she any more than half a dozen young 
men who were in a similar or much worse 
condition this evening?” inquired her uncle, 
gravely. 

“Oh, well ! because, because — ’ 

“ That ’s it, sis,” finished her brother. 

Amy looked at him searchingly, as she had 
several times that evening, and then exclaimed, 
“ Harry Eliot ! I do believe you are one of the 
half dozen Uncle Broad means.” 

“ Amy Eliot ! how dare you insinuate such a 
thing,” said her mother quickly. “ Harry never 
so forgot himself in his life.” 

“ No, my dear madam !” and Harry laughed 


OUT.” 


269 

an inane laugh which caused his mother to look 
at him as sharply as his sister had done. “ No ! 
you never saw me — hie — never saw me — I de- 
clare ! the room is too confoundedly hot — guess 
I ’ll go to bed.” 

He walked to the door with unsteady steps, 
leaving his mother with white cheeks and his 
father with compressed lips. 

Amy burst into a storm of tears as the door 
closed. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, “he will 
disgrace the family. I think it is too bad.” 

“What? the disgrace or the cause,” inquired 
her uncle meaningly. 

“ Do stop ! will you ?” Amy so far forgot 
herself as to be positively disrespectful. 

“ I suppose you are ready to say that it is no 
more than you expected,” said Mr. Eliot, walk- 
ing the floor with agitated steps. “ I declare ! 
I thought my son had too much good sense to 
make a fool of himself in this way. I have been 
in the habit all my life of taking a social glass 
of wine on festive occasions, but I was never 
overcome by it. What shall I do?” 

“ Harry may not have the same power to re- 
sist that you possess,” replied Mr, Broad. “ The 
very fact that you are fond of the beverage 
makes it easier for him. There is but one way 
to overcome the evil, and that may be too late 
now.” 


2/0 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

Mr. Eliot made no reply, and Lucy, calling 
Dorothy and Amy to follow, left the room. Her 
father labored long that night to convince his 
brother-in-law of the true source of the trouble, 
and finally left him a sadder if not a wiser man. 

The next forenoon Lucy and Dorothy were 
sadly reviewing the events of the previous even- 
ing, in the large pleasant room which had been 
assigned to them, and where they had spent 
many quiet hours together. The easy chairs 
were very comfortable, and the open grate gave 
forth a cheerful glow and grateful warmth, for 
the weather had changed during the night, and 
now the leaden clouds poured down sleet and 
rain which beat against the windows, while the 
wind moaned around the house. They ceased 
their conversation to listen to it, and the room 
was very quiet. The coals dropped softly 
through the grate to the hearth, and the clock 
ticked the moments away, and then chimed 
eleven. 

Lucy started. Dorothy,” she said, what 
shall we do ?” 

“ I can answer better if you use a singular 
pronoun. There is but one thing for me to 
do. I am going home.” 

Then why should not I ?” 

“ There may be various reasons. You know 
one of the principal objects of my coming to 


OUT. 


271 




Leicester this winter was to perfect myself in 
painting. I have not accomplished that object 
and have come to the conclusion that I never 
shall, but I have reached the point where I can 
make it profitable, and thus repay my father and 
mother, in a measure at least, for the amount 
spent on my education. 

They were anxious that I should have ad- 
vantages which were not to be obtained in our 
quiet little town, and then I really desired to 
see something of fashionable society. Added 
to these reasons I do enjoy being with you girls, 
but I am convinced that attending so many par- 
ties and receptions where everything is so dif- 
erent from that to which I have been accus- 
tomed, is not conducive to my growth in useful- 
ness or to the ” — after a little hesitation — “ sta- 
tion in life I hope to fill. So, while I am glad 
of the knowledge and insight into human na- 
ture which I have obtained, I am convinced that 
I shall grow faster spiritually in my own home, 
where I am needed.” 

All of which I can understand,” replied 
Lucy soberly, ‘‘ but you have still left my ques- 
tion unanswered.” 

‘‘ I can only reply to it in general terms and 
from my own stand-point. Your position in life 
is very different from mine. I am only the 
daughter of a poor country minister, as the 


2/2 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

world terms it, though my father is fitted to fill 
a much more prominent position ; and but for 
the kindness of my parents in sending me to 
Middletown I should probably have led a quiet, 
obscure life. Your father is wealthy, and you 
are an acknowledged leader in society, and all 
your surroundings are eminently in keeping 
with that position. 

“ Now do not feel hurt,” she added, seeing 
the look of disapproval on her companion’s face. 
“ I do not condemn society altogether, or as it 
might be ; and I am not sure but you could do 
more good by remaining a member of it than 
by withdrawing yourself altogether. Both you 
and your dear father have taken a decided stand 
in the right direction.” 

“And what has it amounted to?” inquired 
Lucy, a little bitterness showing in her tone. 
“ I am called very peculiar, and feel all out of 
sympathy with my uncle’s family and with sev- 
eral of ihy friends, and neither Sarah nor Harry 
nor any one is benefited.” 

“ That is not for you or for me to say,” said 
Dorothy, replying to the first and last part of 
her remarks. “You have sown the seed, and I 
do not doubt but it will spring up and bear fruit 
even if you do not see it. I have been greatly 
impressed with the thought that there is great 
need of mission work in so-called first society. 


OUT. 


273 


The pulpit and the press inveigh against liquor- 
dealers and those who patronize them, and good 
men and women rescue the drunkard from the 
gutter, and give the wisest and best of counsel 
and advice to them ; but who warns any one 
who stands as Sarah does, or utters a protest 
against those who are doing just what the bar- 
tender does, dealing out that which ruins the 
souls of men and women ?” 

Lucy thought of her one effort in that direc- 
tion, and again there came to her a feeling of 
great disappointment at its failure of good re- 
sults ; and then she was comforted by Dorothy’s 
words and the thought that she had tried : that 
she had certainly done what she could. 

“ Of course,” continued Dorothy, “ I cannot 
presume to point out duty to you, but I think 
your influence for the right will eventually be^ 
felt. We certainly can pray earnestly about it, 
and then walk as we are led by a Higher 
Power.” 

And from these two young hearts, weighed 
down with sadness, ascended earnest prayer for 
divine guidance, for wisdom and for strength 
to walk in the path of duty wherever it might 
lead. 

Mr. and Mrs. Bennett sat by Sarah with 
grief-stricken faces. The tumult of the ele- 
ments without seemed in accord with the strife 
18 


274 LUCY broad’s choice. 

of contending emotions which found voice in 
the ever-recurring question, ‘'What shall we 
do?” but the moaning winds gave no answer. 

“We have guarded her to the best of our 
ability,” said the mother. “Oh, how I have 
dreaded the time when she would go into soci- 
ety ! How little they knew ! What can we do ?” 

And still there was no answer. 

Mr. and Mrs. Eliot spent most of the fore- 
noon in the library, and their conversation was 
full of the same question, “ What can we do ?” 
until Mr. Eliot said, 

“ It is no use to talk longer ; and after all, 
are we not making a great fuss over a very 
little thing? Harry will be ashamed enough 
when he has had time to think it over, and will 
probably not repeat the offence ; and if he does, 
I suppose he must have a chance to sow his 
wild oats.” 

Then seeing that the troubled look still re- 
mained on his wife’s face, he added, 

“ If he does not do better I shall have to turn 
crank, like our brother, and banish the whole 
thing from the house ; but then I suppose he 
would find it in other houses.” 

Judge Bradleigh, in dressing-gown and slip- 
pers, was reviewing the events of the previous 
evening, none of which had escaped his keen 
notice. He pitied, while he scorned, Sarah, and 


OUT. 


275 


felt only contempt for the young men whose 
inane remarks and unsteady steps had betrayed 
their condition. 

Lucy's conversation of a few days before 
returned to him, and once more he seemed to 
hear her say, “ Whether you believe it or not, 
you have got to stand before a higher tribunal, 
there to give an account of the life spent here, 
and to receive your sentence from the Judge of 
all the earth.” 


2/6 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A MISSION COMMENCED. 

Lucy’s chief thoughts during the remainder 
of the day were of her conversation of the 
morning with Dorothy, and with it returned the 
perplexing question of duty. Many times she 
prayed earnestly about it. 

“I do not receive any light,” she said to 
Dorothy the next day ; “ but I am going to 
watch for guidance, putting myself entirely in 
the Lord’s hands as far as I can.” 

The forenoon passed quietly. Dorothy spent 
the hours with her painting, and the others 
while busying their hands with fancy-work dis- 
cussed the events of Wednesday evening — the 
beautiful decorations, fine music, and costumes 
of the different guests. 

After lunch Amy proposed that they should 
go over and see Margaret. 

“ Might as well make our party call now as 
any time,” she said. “ Margaret will not expect 
formality from us.” 

Hazel stood by the window and watched 
them as they walked down the yard chatting 
cheerfully, and then turning away with a sigh 
exclaimed, 


A Mission commenced. 277 

“ I think it is drefful to be a little girl and 
see your big sister, ’n’ your big cousin, 'n' your 
big Dorothy, dress up in sealskin sacques ’n’ 
muffs, ’n’ other things,” remembering that Dor^ 
othy’s cloak was not fur, “ an’ see them go off 
an’ tell you to be a good little girl an’ ’muse 
yourself till they come back. I ’d like to know 
what I ’m going to '’muse myself with !” 

“ Come here. Midget,” said her aunt, reach- 
ing round and taking up the silver bonbon 
dish. 

Hazel obeyed with alacrity, and climbing into 
her aunt’s lap, daintily made her selection from 
the bonbons. 

“It is not so very bad to be a little girl, is 
it ?” inquired her aunt, brushing back the light 
soft curls. 

“ It ’s quite sweet,” replied Hazel with twink- 
ling eyes. “ I s’pose I could n’t look at your 
best photograph album,” she added, with a little 
feeling of importance that she was quite a mar- 
tyr and for that reason was being amused en- 
tirely to her liking. 

“ Yes, if you have had all the confectionery 
you wish, and you will go and ask Hannah to 
wash your hands.” 

Hazel looked doubtfully at the contents of 
the bonbon dish, and then saying she guessed 
she had eaten all that was sweet, ran to find 


a7S LUCY broad’s choice. 

Hannah, and then amused herself a long time 
with the album. 

In the meantime her “ big sister ” was think- 
ing how nice it was to be a little girl and so 
escape all perplexity and have all doubtful ques- 
tions settled for you. She dreaded to see Mar- 
garet ; but that young lady, after receiving the 
congratulations of the trio on the success of her 
reception, adroitly turned the conversation from 
that subject, and soon they were chatting mer- 
rily and the moments flew pleasantly by until 
the quick shutting of a door reverberating 
through the hall startled them into silence. 

“What can be the matter?” exclaimed Mar- 
garet, bending her head in a listening attitude. 

“ That is Roger,” she continued as hurried 
steps drew near. “ It must be something un- 
usual which would cause him to forget his usual 
gait and rush so.” 

A quick imperative knock and the door was 
pushed open, proving Margaret’s conjecture cor- 
rect, for Roger stood there. 

He removed his hat, bowing gravely and 
looking agitated and shocked. 

“What is the matter?” inquired his sister, 
while the others questioned with startled eyes. 

“ I bring bad news,” he replied. “ There 
has been an accident and one of your friends is 
badly injured. “ Not a relative,” he explained, 


A MISSION COMMENCED. 2/9 

as the young ladies rose with frightened excla- 
mations. “ It is Miss Fairbanks.” 

“ Fay !” ejaculated four voices in different 
intonations of apprehension. 

“ Yes ! and I am afraid she is badly injured.” 

“ How did it happen ?” Margaret was the 
only one who had sufficient courage to ask the 
question. 

“ She was thrown from her carriage.” 

Roger’s words were brief. He seemed try- 
ing to comprehend the sad facts and to feel 
great reluctance in admitting them. So there 
was silence for a moment,' and then, seating 
himself, he said, 

“You are aware that since Miss Fairbanks 
returned from school she has been in the habit 
of spending one afternoon in carrying food and 
clothing to the very impecunious people of Lei- 
cester. Of course, you know more about this 
than I can tell you. And you are probably also 
conversant with the fact that Mr. Fairbank’s 
coachman, whom he has had for so many years, 
has gone home to Sweden. The one who took 
his place was highly recommended, and during 
the five weeks he has been with Mr. Fairbanks 
has been faithful to his trust and skillful in the 
management of his horses. This afternoon Miss 
Fairbanks started out as usual and went to that 
miserable Hanover Street, where you know that 


28o 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


nearly every other building contains a liquor- 
shop ; and while dear little Lady Bountiful was 
fulfilling her usual mission and trying all she 
could to carry sunshine into those wretched 
homes, the miserable coachman was regaling 
himself by trying different kinds of drinks, and 
by the time she was ready to return he was in 
no condition to drive.” 

“ Did she know it ?” interrupted Amy. 

“ Probably not : and she had little time to 
think, for as soon as she had taken her place in 
the carriage, he struck the horses a smart blow 
with the whip — ” 

“ Which Mr. Fairbanks never allows it was 
Margaret who interrupted this time. 

No ! the animals were not accustomed to 
such treatment and were frightened. They are 
perfectly gentle though spirited, and could easi- 
ly have been controlled, if the stupid driver had 
not lost his wits. As it was, they started on the 
run and in turning the corner of the narrow 
street the carriage was overturned and Miss 
Fairbanks thrown out.” 

“ Dear little Fay,” said Dorothy with trem- 
bling tones. “Are you sure that she is badly 
injured.” 

“ I fear so. There are three physicians there, 
but when I came away they had arrived at no 
definite decision.” 


A MISSION COMMENCEt). 2^1 

How did you learn all this?” inquired Mar- 
garet. 

I was passing the house when they brought 
her home, and of course stopped to see if I could 
be of any assistance.” 

They were silent for many minutes after 
Roger ceased speaking ; and then the three 
girls bade Margaret good-by and walked quietly 
back to Mr. Eliot’s. 

Word was received later that Fay was very 
seriously injured, and none but those who at- 
tended her were allowed to see her. 

“ The question which troubled you so much 
is settled, at least for the present,” said Doro- 
thy in the evening. 

Lucy was sitting by the table in their room 
with her head resting on her hands. Her face 
was pale and the brown eyes deep with sadness. 

Of course none of us would think of social 
gaiety while dear little Fay is suffering and per- 
haps may never join us again. What a change 
a few hours have brought. I do not feel that I 
can settle myself to anything;” and Dorothy 
sobbed outright. 

Lucy was silent a moment, and then her 
voice trembled as she said, “ I almost feel like 
saying : 

‘ Oh God, I do not dare to pray, 

Thou answerest in so strange a way.’ 


282 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


And yet I do not feel that the question is set- 
tled or the way of duty made clear. Sad cir- 
cumstances control the present and make the 
course of action very plain while the cause ex- 
ists ; but the same perplexity concerning right 
and wrong will return again, and I shall be as 
troubled as ever.” 

“ You must continue to ask for guidance, and 
you certainly will be directed. Do n’t you re- 
member that our heavenly Father has promised 
to guide us with his eye ?” 

‘‘Yes, but that implies great nearness to 
Him,” said Lucy hesitatingly. 

“ Shall we not strive for it ? Let us ‘ commit 
our way unto the Lord and trust also in Him,’ 
feeling sure that He will bring it to pass.” 

Every day brought word of Fay’s condition, 
and still only her immediate family were al- 
lowed to see her, and to them she could talk 
only a few moments at a time. She had many 
plans for the future which she told to no one 
but her father, and he granted all her requests, 
hoping that his darling would yet recover and 
carry them out herself. 

Although Fay could not see her friends she 
did not forget them, and there were times when 
resting against the downy pillows, she could 
write ; and loving words were traced upon the 
paper and dainty notes were sealed and ad- 


A MISSION COMMENCED. 283 

dressed to different ones, “ To be read when I 
have gone home.” 

Her father and mother watched her constant- 
ly as though by their strong love they could 
stay the dread messenger, and Fay appeared so 
bright it appeared as though their care was not 
to be in vain. The doctor looked grave and sus- 
pense wore upon the watchers, but Faith her- 
self was very happy. If she recovered it was 
right. She was not afraid to die, for the future 
was sure for her. Her preparations were all 
made, she had been adopted into the family of 
the King, and death was only going home. 

So the days passed until one afternoon early 
in February she requested them to move her 
bed so that she could look out of the western 
window. The sun was just above the distant 
hills, his beams shone across the wide snow- 
covered lawn, and through the window just above 
the head of the gentle watcher ; and then, as he 
sank lower and lower, the light settled until a 
beam touched Fay’s face, and she smiled as 
it rested on her hands and then faded slowly 
from the room. The sun dropped from her 
view, leaving a train of crimsom glory in his 
wake, which slowly changed to violet and to 
gray. 

“ How beautiful !” she exclaimed ; and then 
the room was very still, and no one heard the 


LUCY BROAD^S CHOICE. 


284 

door open, nor noticed approaching steps until 
the family physician stood beside the bed. 

The twilight had deepened so that the ex- 
pression of his face could not be seen. He took 
the slender wrist in his fingers and then bent 
his head low over the sweet face among the 
pillows, and her father and mother wondered 
that she did not speak, and then the doctor 
stood upright and turning said, “ For so He 
giveth his beloved sleep.” 

“She must be sleeping soundly, not to no- 
tice your presence nor the sound of your voice,” 
said Mrs. Fairbanks. 

“ She will never hear it again in this world. 
She is rejoicing where there are no more part- 
ings,” and the voice of the kind physician trem- 
bled. 

“ No, no ! it cannot be,” exclaimed her father 
and mother with one voice. 

For reply the doctor touched the electric 
chain and the room was flooded with light. 

Fay lay just as she had when the twilight 
gathered. A beautiful smile upon her lips and 
a calm, sweet expression on the white face. 

“Asleep in Jesus,” said the doctor, “you 
would not wake her. At home with the angels, 
you would not wish her back. She has gone 
where there ‘shall be no more death, neither 
sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any 


A MISSION COMMENCED. 285 

more pain/ ‘ And God shall wipe away all tears 
from her eyes ’ and he led the stricken parents 
from the room. 

Then followed days when the blinds were 
closed and the great house was darkened, while 
its inmates moved about with quiet step and 
spoke in subdued tones; and then, one after- 
noon, friends and relatives filled the house, and 
impressive tender words were sung, and the 
sweet Bible promises full of comfort and rest 
were read, and solemn words of prayer ascended 
to the tender loving Father, and friends and 
acquaintances looked their last on the dear form, 
while tears flowed freely from many eyes. 

Fay’s schoolmates were the last of the long 
procession who stood beside the white cloth- 
covered casket and looked at the silent sleeper, 
so beautiful, so still. Very natural she looked ; 
they had seen her wear the white dress before, 
when she graduated from the Academy. The 
bright curls were pushed carelessly back from 
the full forehead, the long lashes rested on the 
marble cheeks and the sweet lips still smiled. 

Margaret stood, still and pale, holding back 
the tears by the strength of her strong will. 
Sarah dropped on her knees and sobbed aloud. 
Amy clung nervously to her cousin, who looked 
at the dear face, through tears, indeed, but with 
the echo of sure promises of a future meeting 


286 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


where there are no more partings, bringing 
peace to her soul, and Dorothy, with trembling 
lips, said in loving tones, “ Blessed are the dead 
who die in the Lord.” 

They never forgot the influence of those 
moments : the dim room, the fragrance of choice 
flowers, the oppressive stillness, and the thought 
that they were bidding a lifelong farewell to one 
whom they loved so tenderly. 

Reluctantly they turned away, and as they 
left the room some one handed them each a 
sealed letter, and then they took their places 
with the others, and rode slowly through the 
city to the quiet resting-place of the dead, and 
stood with bowed heads while their pastor spoke 
the farewell words. Short-sighted people won- 
dered that- Faith Fairbanks should be taken 
away when she had just begun to do so much 
good; her mission was very short; it seemed 
such a pity when she had the means and the 
will to use it wisely ; and then standing so high 
in society her influence for the right would 
have been felt; but now! well, it was all 
ended. 

Was it ended ? 

Margaret Bradleigh, sitting in the solitude 
of her own room, held in her hand a dainty note, 
which contained loving words of warning and 
an earnest plea that she would give up her skep- 


A MISSION COMMENCED. 287 

ticism and let the blessed sunshine of a Saviour’s 
love fill her heart. 

“ What do you gain by rejecting the Bible ?” 
Faith had written, “ and what will you substitute 
for it ? What will you do when you lie where I 
am as I pen these lines, and feel your life slip- 
ping away moment by moment ? and what will 
you do in eternity ?” 

What, indeed ? and for the first time in her 
life Margaret felt some doubt as to her position. 

“ But then,” she argued to herself,” it is very 
foolish for me to feel so. Fay cannot know as my 
father does, she is too young, she has never had 
his experience ;” and then came the thought 
that this young friend had passed through an 
experience all unknown to her father. Would 
his vast erudition carry him calmly through the 
same great change ? Faith possessed something 
more than knowledge ; what could it be ? 

I will watch,” she thought, without taking 
the trouble to define what she was to watch for. 
She only desired to put from her all trouble- 
some thoughts and questions, and pursue the 
same untroubled life she had lived for eighteen 
years. 

At the same time Sarah Bennett was weep- 
ing bitterly as she rocked back and forth in her 
comfortable chair, but she gave no thought to 
that nor to her luxurious surroundings. Faith’s 


288 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


words to her were words of tender entreaty, 
urging her to turn resolutely from temptation 
and to accept the conquering grace which is 
sufficient to overcome all trials. And Sarah’s 
heart was full of unutterable longing for the 
better way so plainly pointed out to her. 

“ Is it possible ?” she exclaimed, and then in 
tones of bitter anguish, added, “ Oh, Fay ! Fay ! 
you do not know. You were never tried so.” 

To Lucy and Dorothy she had written words 
of thanks for their consistent Christian lives, 
which had first led her to think seriously of 
choosing the better part which could not be 
taken from her. And Dorothy sitting by the 
window and looking over the pure white snow, 
thought of the pearly gates through which Faith 
had entered, and while tears fell silently, as she 
longed for her presence and thought that the 
places which knew her now would know her no 
more for ever, her soul was full of joy as she 
recalled the closing words of the note she held 
in her hand : “ I can give you no higher meed of 
praise than to say, I took knowledge of you that 
you had been with Jesus.” 

Lucy was lifting her heart in silent thanks- 
giving that she had been led to speak to Faith 
on the subject of personal religion, and that 
God had honored her timid effort in such a way 
that Fay had written, “ But for your kindness^ 


A MISSION COMMENCED. 289 

dear Lucy, I could not wait here so calmly for 
my summons to cross the river. I shall never 
cease to thank you that you led me to the Sa- 
viour, and that his love fills my heart at this 
time, taking all fear of the future from me, and 
giving to me a sweet longing for his presence. 
You are sure of one star in your crown, and I 
hope it will be bright with many more.” 

Across the hall, Amy was feeling very much 
dissatisfied with herself, for Fay had kindly but 
faithfully pointed out her inconsistencies. “ Re- 
member,” she wrote, ‘‘that the Saviour says, 
‘Ye cannot serve God and mammon,’ and that 
‘ He who is not for me is against me.’ For 
whom is your life speaking ? Why do you wish 
your name on the church-book while your heart 
is in the world? Will you. not turn squarely 
round and walk wholly in the narrow way, not 
seeking to make it wider ? Is there no beauty 
to you in whole-hearted service for Christ ?” 

For the first time for months Amy gave her- 
self up to serious thought, and repeated over 
and over to herself Faith’s, “ Why ?” 

“ I suppose I ought to do differently,” she 
thought, “ but. Oh, dear me ! I do like to have 
a good time. Well, why can’t I have a nice 
time and be good too ? Lucy does,” and then 
she compared her cousin’s life with her own. 
Lucy was happy, and every one seemed to like 
19 


290 LUCY broad’s choice. 

her. “ I will try and be more as she is and to 
attend the prayer-meetings but she paused 
here andjfailed to see that her cousin’s life was 
ordered by that love which is the fulfilling of 
the law, while she only proposed an outward 
observance and her heart still clung to worldly 
pleasure. 

But she felt encouraged by her own good 
resolutions, and resolving to put them into im- 
mediate practice, took her Bible from the table 
and brushing the dust from the covers, opened 
it at random and read, “If any man will come 
after me, let him deny himself, and take up his 
cross and follow me.” 

Aching hearts in the desolation of the beauti- 
ful home from which the light and joy had gone 
for ever, longed with longing unutterable for 
the sweet voice hushed on earth, and questioned 
why they were so afflicted and why their idol 
could not have been left to make the sad world 
sweeter and brighter by her presence in it, and 
could not see that the One who never makes a 
mistake knew better than they and would make 
brightness and sweetness where they utterly 
failed to see it. 


A SUMMER VACATION. 


291 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A SUMMER VACATION. 

In spite of Amy’s protestations Lucy re- 
turned to Oakhurst in a few days. Her step- 
mother was much disappointed, not that she 
was really sorry to have Lucy at home, but it 
interfered with her plans, which she was wise 
enough to keep to herself. Lucy had changed 
in many ways since Mrs. Broad’s advent into 
the family. She no longer contended with her 
step-mother, but maintained a quiet dignity and 
calm composure difficult to combat and impos- 
sible to overcome, especially as they were ac- 
companied with a sweetness of manner which 
had been entirely lacking in her childhood. 
Mrs. Broad felt that her authority was waning, 
and she could not reassert it, as Lucy seldom 
opposed her in words. 

Nothing special occurred after Lucy’s return 
home. March blustered and blew itself out, April 
came with her coy ways, her smiles and her 
tears, and she in turn gave place to lovely May 
with her hint of abundance of flowers in the 
near future, and then came June, rich with the 
breath of blossoms and fragrant with their per- 


292 LUCY broad’s choice. 

fume, and the crimson and white roses nodded 
to each other in the light breeze, and Mrs. Broad 
grew more and more uneasy every day. 

It seems to me,” she said, one evening, 
when Lucy was dreamily swinging in the ham- 
mock, “it seems to me that you are taking 
things pretty quietly. You have had only two 
dresses made this summer, and we ought to go 
away in a few days.” 

Lucy sat upright, and her step-mother could 
not see the half smile of intelligence which 
curved her lips. 

“ I did not mean that, nor now,” continued 
Mrs. Broad, referring to the first part of her 
remark, a shade of dissatisfaction showing 
through her tone. 

“ I am not going until the first of August,” 
replied Lucy gently. 

“ Oh, you have it all arranged then, and of 
course it was not needful to consult me. Per- 
haps you will condescend to tell me where you 
are going, and whether the girls are to accom- 
pany you.” 

The dulcet tone did not conceal the sarcasm, 
and Lucy waited a moment before she said, “ I 
am going, the first of August, to spend a few 
weeks with Dorothy.” 

“ I do not wonder that you did not tell me.” 
Mrs. Broad could not conceal her chagrin. “ You 


A SUMMER VACATION. 293 

knew that I would not be pleased;” and then 
feeling that she had betrayed herself too much, 
hastened to add, “ I should not think that you 
would like to bury yourself in that little country 
town ; but if you are all together,” she contin- 
ued hopefully, “it will not be so bad.” 

“If by all, you mean Amy, Margaret, and 
Sarah, they will not be there.” 

Mrs. Broad’s worst fears were confirmed. 
The girls would not be there, so of course their 
brother would not and Herman Colburn would. 

“ I think, Lucy, that you might extend to 
me the courtesy of asking my advice, even if 
you do not intend to follow it. You knew that 
I would not be pleased, and I shall just speak to 
your father about it.” 

Lucy crushed back the reply that rose to her 
lips, that she was no longer a child to be dicta- 
ted to, and instead said, “ I did not tell you be- 
cause, as you have just remarked, I knew that 
you would not be pleased, and I did not wish to 
make you unhappy longer than I could help. 
Papa has already given his consent, and appre- 
ciates the kind thoughtfulness which includes 
Hazel in the invitation.” 

“ I thought they were poor, and I should not 
think you would feel that you could add two to 
the expense of the family for so long a time.” 

Mrs. Broad could not see the color rush to 


294 . LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

Lucy’s cheeks, but she felt the calm dignity of 
her reply. 

“ They are certainly very far from impecuni- 
ous, and have enough to make themselves com- 
fortable. They probably are obliged to practice 
economy, but Dorothy thinks the visiting has 
all been on her side, and is not willing to come 
here again until I have been there. She has 
improved her time so well while at school and 
in Leicester that she makes her painting quite 
remunerative. I am very fond of Dorothy, and 
anticipate a pleasant visit.” 

“Why did she not invite Amy and Marga- 
ret? I am sure she has visited them enough, 
and Sarah too.” 

“ Margaret is going to the mountains, and 
Amy is to spend two months with some distant 
relatives in the West. Sarah is going to the 
sea shore, so you see we shall be quite scat- 
tered.” 

Mrs. Broad made no reply. She felt, as she 
had several times before, powerless to assert her 
authority. 

Lucy was diplomatic in securing her father’s 
consent, for it could not be gainsaid, and her 
step-mother realizing this, rose with the air of 
one who had entered a contest and had been 
utterly defeated, and indeed she was thoroughly 
vexed and discomfited. 


A SUMMER VACATION. 295 

Lucy felt the influence of her mood and was 
truly sorry for her disappointment, the cause of 
which she understood but to which she could 
not allude, so she said quietly, I am certainly 
sorry that you are not pleased, but for several 
reasons it seems to me that my decision was 
right, and that it was not best for me to men- 
tion it before. I did not mean to be disrespect- 
ful nor unkind in any way, and if my silence 
has implied anything of the kind I hope that 
you will forgive me.” 

Mrs. Broad made no reply. Her feelings 
were varied. Mingled with the chagrin and 
vexation was a feeling of amazement that Lucy, 
with her proud, haughty nature, should apolo- 
gize for anything which she might deem it best 
to do. 

She does not know,” she said to herself, 
“ that it is her good alone that I am seeking and 
planning for,” and she really flattered herself 
that Lucy was entirely devoid of all intuitive 
perception of human nature. 

I am glad that she is different from what 
she used to be, or at least that she seems so. I 
wonder what has changed her. She is not an- 
gelic yet by any means, but she certainly is 
improving,” soliloquized Mrs. Broad. 

Hazel was delighted with the prospect, ^nd 
she confided to Susie May the fact that “ they 


296 LUCY broad’s choice. 

were going into the country to stay weeks an’ 
weeks ; and they were going to have a truly lit- 
tle girl to play with all the time, an’ they were 
going to pick berries, an’ tumble in the hay, 
an’ wade in the brook and Susie May listened 
gravely, as usual, and made no comment. 

The days slipped quickly by to Lucy and 
very slowly to her little sister; but the sultry 
August morning came at last when they stood 
on the piazza waiting for the carriage, and Mrs. 
Broad thonght she had never seen Lucy look 
better. Her simple travelling dress fitted her 
perfectly, and all her appointments spoke of re- 
fined taste ; but her step-mother, looking at her 
and appreciating all these facts, realized that 
her real charm was in her calm, ladylike manner 
and gracious bearing. 

“ Why does she wish to go to that place and 
waste all her sweetness on the desert air ?” she 
thought, and then she sighed as she remem- 
bered that North wood was not as much a desert 
as she wished it were, by the presence of at least 
one person, and that Herman Colburn would 
probably think the sweetness wasted. And then 
she wondered why the Rev. Ira Colburn, who 
was a descendant from one of the best and old- 
est families in New England, should have cho- 
sen to be a minister and be content to preach in 
that little out-of-the-way town. She did not know 


A SUMMER VACATION. 297 

that his labors had been wonderfully blessed, 
and that he had refused a very remunerative 
position in a large city, being satisfied with his 
hire in the conversion of souls. 

But her cogitations were interrupted by her 
anxiety for Hazel, who, with Susie May clasped 
tightly in her arms, was running up and down 
the steps, declaring that she did not see why 
Sam did not come ; the horse would be late, an’ 
the engine would n’t wait. 

A few hours in the cars brought them to 
Haddington, and from there the rest of the jour- 
ney of six miles was by stage. And a pleasant 
ride it proved to be. The road wound between 
well-tilled farms, with sunny farmhouses, which 
always faced the south without a thought of the 
direction of the street ; most of the yards were 
surrounded by picket fences, upon which rows 
of bright tin cans were placed to dry ; the air 
was sweet with the scent of new-mown hay, and 
the voices of the hay-makers mingled with the 
occasional musical tinkle of a cow-bell, and the 
hoarse caws of flying crows were borne by the 
soft breeze to the ears of the travellers. 

After a while the farmhouses gave place to 
vine-covered cottages, and these in turn to more 
pretentious dwellings ; and then they passed a 
store whose sign announced that Silas Weather- 
bee sold drygoods and groceries, samples of 


298 LUCY broad’s choice. 

which were displayed in the window on one side 
of the door, while over the window on the other 
side were the words “ Post Office.” On the steps 
a group of men and boys were evidently wait- 
ing for the mail, which the driver, without stop- 
ping his horse, threw in at the open door with a 
loud shout of, “ Mail here !” 

A little farther on was the white church with 
its pointed spire and rows of sheds on both sides ; 
and stretching away in the rear was the quiet 
resting-place of the preceding generations who 
had worshipped in the “ Meeting-house ” and en- 
tered into the social life of the little village ; and 
then the stage stopped before a low white fence, 
and Lucy saw a large old-fashioned house with 
gambrel roof, which was partially hidden by 
grand old shade-trees. A gravelled walk led to 
the front door, and on the broad flat stone which 
served as a step, Mr. and Mrs. Colburn, Dorothy, 
and Herman stood, waiting to welcome them. 

Cordial greetings were exchanged, and then 
Lucy noticed a little girl about Hazel’s age and 
a boy two years her senior, who stood by the 
stairs shyly regarding Hazel, who was returning 
their gaze with more of curiosity than timidity. 

Lucy spoke a few words to them as she passed 
up the low broad stairs to her room, and in a 
few moments she heard Sadie say, “Isn’t you 
going to take off your white dress ?” 


A SUMMER VACATION. 


299 


Why, no,” replied Hazel with wide eyes : 
“ what for ?” 

“My mother always makes me take mine 
off when I come home from church and other 
places.” 

“ What for ?” inquired Hazel once more. 

“ So as to keep it clean.” 

“ Won’t it wash?” questioned astonished Ha- 
zel. 

“ Why, yes ; but mamma says it makes so 
much washing ?” 

“ But she do n’t do it herself, does she ?” said 
Hazel, her wonder growing. 

“ No, but it makes too much for Jane.” 

“And don’t you have only Jane? and 
does — ” 

“ Hazel,” called Lucy, “you had better come 
up stairs and take off your hat.” 

With the removal of the hat she received 
sundry injunctions to be a good little girl and 
not ask questions, as it was neither polite nor 
kind ; and then Lucy heard her saying to Sadie 
a moment later, “ Is your big sister, or some- 
body, always telling you to be a good little girl ?” 

“ Why, no,” said practical Sadie hesitatingly, 
“ not always.” 

“ I guess you ’re better than me, then,” re- 
plied Hazel, shaking her brown curly head. 

Hazel’s questions were a suggestion to her 


300 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


sister. She noticed during the two or three fol- 
lowing days that Mrs. Colburn was constantly 
interrupted in whatever she attempted to do for 
herself or the house. She must leave her sweep- 
ing and listen to Mrs. Hemingway’s account of 
the sickness of her baby, and her baking to hear 
Mrs. Martin complain that she, Mrs. Colburn, 
had called to see Mrs. Barnhart since she had 
been to see her, and she felt very much hurt 
and grieved. Then, Tuesday, she must lead the 
Missionary meeting, because she was the minis- 
ter’s wife, and preside at the business meeting 
of the “ Ladies’ Aid Society,” for the same rea- 
son, on Wednesday. One forenoon Lucy count- 
ed four times that she was called away while try- 
ing to put the parlor in order. Dorothy was 
busy up stairs and Jane was preparing the din- 
ner ; so she quietly took the dusting-cloth from 
where Mrs. Colburn had dropped it, and com- 
pleted the work, putting the room in perfect 
order, and filling the vases with fresh flowers. 
She was fully rewarded by the look of surprise 
and pleasure which greeted her a while later 
when her hostess returned to try once more to 
complete the oft-interrupted task. Lucy took 
the whole care of the parlor after that. 

“ Dorothy,” said her mother, one Friday 
morning, “ do you suppose that you can finish 
this dress for Sadie before Sunday ? She has 


A SUMMER VACATION. 


301 


none fit to wear to church. It is perfectly 
plain.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Colburn,” said Lucy, “ please let 
me do it. I do enjoy such work so much. I 
cut and make most of Hazel’s dresses when 
I am at home, and I brought two or three of 
mine to make over for her, simply because I had 
nothing else to do ; there is material enough in 
them for several, and Hazel would not care for 
two alike, and if you would allow me to exercise 
my skill for them both, I would esteem it a great 
favor.” 

Mrs. Colburn expressed her thanks in words 
for the proffered assistance, and in looks for the 
kind and delicate manner in which it was offered, 
and little Sadie was surprised to find her new 
dresses tucked and ruffled and made just like 
Hazel’s, only her ribbons were blue, to match 
her eyes, Hazel said, An hers were pink, ’cause 
pink and brown went well together, and her 
eyes and hair were brown.” 

But it was not all hurry and work. The 
whole atmosphere of the house was one of peace 
and love, and there were afternoons when they 
were all invited out to a quiet tea, and pleasant 
excursions ; picnics and berry parties were fre- 
quent, and the days flew all too quickly by until 
x\ugust faded into the haze of September, and 
October dawned bright with varied hues of vine 


302 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

and tree, and the time came for Lucy to return 
to Oakhurst. 

It was a couple of very sober young ladies 
who sat in Lucy’s room one stormy afternoon. 
The wind dashed the rain in sheets against the 
window-panes, rattled the blinds and howled 
down the chimney ; the branches of the sturdy 
elm trees writhed and twisted, and then, tossing 
high in the air, seemed to gather new strength 
only to be overcome again. 

“ Do n’t you see that nature is weeping at 
the thought of your leaving us? and I could 
very easily do the same,” said Dorothy, with 
tears in her eyes. 

“ It would be very unlike you to be as de- 
monstrative as nature is at this time,” replied 
Lucy. “ But I feel somewhat in sympathy with 
her. I am sorry to leave you, and then I dread 
to go home and take up the old question — the 
question of where the pleasures of the world end 
for a Christian.” The last sentence in reply to 
Dorothy’s look of inquiry. 

It seems to me that the way of duty is 
much more clearly defined here than in Oak- 
hurst or Leicester, where I spend so much of 
my time.” 

I am afraid you would not find it so if you 
resided here,” replied Dorothy gravely. “You 
have seen the best side of North wood, but the 


A SUMMER VACATION. 


303 


season for its trials and temptations will soon be 
bere as well as in the city. There are whist 
parties here just the same as in large places, 
with the same result of deadening the spiritual 
life. Now do not give your head that peculiar 
set, of which, perchance, you are wholly uncon- 
scious, but which nevertheless speaks volumes. 
I know that card-parties of all kinds are no 
temptation to you, and as I happen to be the 
minister’s daughter, I am not expected to join 
them, although I fail to see why the daughters 
of clergymen should be expected to be different 
from other Christian girls. We all have our 
temptations and you would probably smile if I 
should tell you my vulnerable points.” 

“ Perhaps you will be kind enough to inform 
me, for I feel in anything but a genial mood.” 

“ Listening to gossip.” 

“ Dorothy Colburn, that is the last sin of 
which you are guilty.” 

“So it may appear to you,” and Dorothy’s 
face expressed amusement at Lucy’s look of 
genuine surprise, and of contrition at her own 
confession. 

“ Now you may not know that we have three 
families in our congregation who are quite well 
off, the Jordans, Goulds and Everetts. They 
have been away most of the time since you have 
been here, so you have not met them. But they 


304 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


are acknowledged leaders here and all others 
try to follow them, and I am constantly hear- 
ing complaints that this one and that one have 
been snubbed, forgive the word, but that is the 

vernacular ; and Mrs. ’s Mary Ann was not 

invited to Nellie Gould’s party, and Ed. Jordan 

went home with Mamie B , and she is not 

half as good as Suise C in her mother’s 

estimation, and — well, there is no end to it, and 
it is such fun.” 

Then it is the fun you enjoy and not the 
gossip,” said Lucy, noting the distinction. “You 
know that if you do not play the role of umpire, 
you try your best to bring about peace.” 

“Yes, Lucy, I do try,” and Dorothy’s blue 
eyes filled with tears, “but there are society 
lines even here. Of course, I am invited to every- 
thing, from huskings and quiltings to receptions 
and musicales, and am called ‘ stuck up ’ because 
I will not flirt at the former, and ‘ set ’ because 
I do not countenance extreme late hours and 
fashions at the latter, and have a choice as to the 
kind of music to which I listen.” 

A little silence fell between them at this 
point. Lucy was evidently pondering her 
friend’s words. Nature, too, seemed to have 
grown calm. The wind had ceased to blow in 
gusts, and was gently shaking the rain drops 
from the trees and parting the drifting clouds 


A SUMMER VACATION. 305 

of dull gray, which were fast disappearing in 
the east, leaving rifts of cerulean blue, until, a 
few moments later, the sun bursting through 
the mist caused the rain drops to sparkle like 
diamonds, and touching the distant hill-tops 
with rosy light, gradually sunk behind them, 
leaving a bright golden light along the horizon, 
while it colored the clouds with hues of crimson 
and yellow. Involuntarily both girls arose and 
stood with clasped hands before the western 
windows. 

“If our Heavenly Father in his great love 
and goodness has given us so much beauty in 
this world, what does it mean when it says, ‘ Eye 
hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have en- 
tered into the heart of man the things which 
God hath prepared for them that love him ? 
Looking at it from a selfish standpoint, can any 
sacrifice be too great to make in order that we may 
obtain that blessedness, and from the higher 
incentive can we ever be grateful enough for 
the love which offers all this blessedness free ?” 

Lucy made no reply, but standing there in 
the gathering twilight, a strength of purpose 
was born in her soul which never left her through 
the coming years. 

It was a sober little company which stood by 
the gate waiting for the stage the next morning. 

“ What a calm, clear, cool, crisp morning,” 
20 


3o6 LUCY broad’s choice. 

said Dorothy, thinking of the storm of the day 
before. 

“ Can ’t you think of a few more adjectives ?” 
inquired Herman. 

“ Not that commence with c, I fear,” said 
Lucy, smiling at the unconscious alliteration, 
“ but perhaps I can supplement her remarks in 
a measure, by using another letter. Bright, bril- 
liant, beautiful, brisk,” and she looked with ap- 
preciative eyes at the autumnal landscape. 

“ I shall miss you, my dear child,” said Mr. 
Colburn, recalling the happy pleasant ways 
which had cheered him for so many weeks. 

“We shall all miss you,” added his wife, re- 
membering the little dresses hanging in the 
closet, and the many, unostentatious, quiet, help- 
ful deeds of their guest. 

“ Oh, dear, do n’t !” said Dorothy. 

Irrepressible Hazel with tears in her eyes 
and dimples in her cheeks was philosophically 
trying to comfort weeping Sadie. 

“There, don’t cry. ’T won’t do any good. 
I ’ve had an awfully nice time, and you must 
come and see me next time Dorothy comes. 
I ’m sorry to go — my ! ai n’t it awful ?” she added 
as the swaying stage stopped before the gate. 

“Which,” exclaimed Herman as he swung 
her over the narrow steps through the open door, 
“ the going, or the stage ?” 


A SUMMER VACATION. 


307 


“The stage going,” retorted Hazel with twink- 
ling eyes and dimpling cheeks, as the clumsy 
vehicle started. 

Lucy looked with loving eyes at the little 
group standing by the gate, at the same time 
holding fast to her little sister to prevent her 
from falling through the space made for a win- 
dow, from which she leaned, vigorously waving 
her mite of a handkerchief, until, as the stage 
turned a sharp corner, she exclaimed, “ No use ! 
can’t see them any more. Oh, dear me ! I hope 
we ’ll come again next summer. They ’re awful- 
ly nice.” 

She found her sister rather a silent compan- 
ion, and after several ineffectual attempts to at- 
tract her attention to passing objects, proceeded, 
like the wise child that she was, to amuse her- 
self, which she was prefectly capable of doing, 
while her beauty and bright winsome ways won 
for her much notice during the day, which she 
very properly received with true childish dig- 
nity. 

“ There ’s Will !” she exclaimed as the con- 
ductor called “ Oakhurst,” and in a moment 
more she was in his arms hugging and kissing 
him to her heart’s content. 


3o8 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THANKSGI VING. 

During the drive from the station Hazel 
had so many questions to ask that Lucy scarce- 
ly found a chance to speak, so she gave herself 
up to thought, paying but little attention to 
what was said, until she was roused by Hazel’s 
exclaiming, “ Who is all them ?” and looking 
up she saw that the carriage was entering her 
father’s grounds, and she caught sight of the ve- 
randa on which quite a number of people were 
standing; but before Will could reply, Sam 
reined in his horses with a “ Whoa, dar,” and 
her step-mother greeted her with a smiling face 
but a doubtful heart. 

I am glad to welcome you home, dear 
Lucy,” she said, and I have planned such a 
pleasant surprise for you. I knew that you had 
not seen your cousins and friends this summer, 
so I sent for them to be with us and welcome 
you.” 

Lucy’s greeting to Amy, Harry, Margaret, 
and Roger was very cordial and quite satisfac- 
tory to her step-mother, and if she were not 
altogether pleased, no one was the wiser and 
certainly all were very glad to see her. 


THANKSGIVING. 


309 

“ Her stay in that country town certainly has 
not detracted from her good manners/' solilo- 
quized Mrs. Broad. “ I wonder what Margaret 
and Roger think ?” 

She felt still more satisfied as she heard the 
former say, “ Why did you not bring Dorothy 
home with you? Next to yourself I do not 
know of any one I would be more glad to 
see.” 

The day, which had dawned so cool, had 
grown warmer as its hours passed, and the 
evening seemed like early Semtember ; so after 
dinner they all found comfortable places on the 
veranda, and Lucy’s Oakhurst friends, knowing 
that she was to return that day, dropped in one 
after another until the broad space was filled. 
The deepening twilight was dispelled by the 
rising moon which shed a bright light over all — 
“ Light enough to read by,” Florence Perkins 
said. 

Lucy, watching the delicate tracery of vine 
and branch on the gravelled road, and thinking 
of the previous day, lost the thread of the con- 
versation for a few moments, but her thoughts 
were recalled by hearing Mrs. Perkins say, 

“ Quite a reception for you, Lucy. It is very 
pleasant to have you at home again, and we are 
very glad to welcome your Leicester friends, 
also. By the way, where is Miss Bennett ?” 


310 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“ I invited her to come,” said Mrs. Broad, 
“ but she replied that she could not, possibly.” 

“ Why?” inquired Florence, whose curiosity 
often exceeded her politeness. 

“ She gave no special reason. I wondered 
why, myself. Do you know, Amy ?” 

“ Yes,” replied Amy shortly. 

“ Why ?” chorused several voices, their de- 
sire for information piqued by an intangible 
something in the speaker’s tone. 

“ She is not of our set now.” 

“ Why, Amy,” said her aunt deprecatingly, 
“‘is anything wrong? I am sure I should not 
have invited her if I had known it.” 

“ What is the trouble ?” inquired Mrs. Per- 
kins. 

“ She is a miserable good-for-nothing thing,” 
replied Amy, thus urged. 

“ It hardly seems kind to leave the matter 
in such an indefinite way, allowing each one to 
imagine something very much against her if we 
choose.” 

Mrs. Clarke evidently thought that Amy was 
induced to speak as she did through some girl- 
ish prejudice. 

“ I do not think that any one who has been 
seen intoxicated on the street is a fit compan- 
ion for people who think anything of them- 
selves.” 


THANKSGIVING. 311 

An exclamation of horror went round the 
circle. 

“ You do not mean to say that Miss Bennett 
has been seen in that condition?” exclaimed 
Mrs. French, voicing the feeling of inquiry of 
all. 

“Yes, 1 do,” said Amy, thoroughly roused. 
“ She is reported to have been seen reeling on 
the street several times ; but whether that is so 
or not, we know that she takes too much for 
her own good or comfort.” 

A short silence followed thifi*revelation, which 
was broken by Miss Curtis saying, 

“ Will you tell us how it happened?” 

“ Happened just as it does to any one who 
drinks too much wine.” 

The questioner was no favorite with Amy, 
who would much have preferred that she should 
have taken no part in the discussion. 

“ But there must be something back of it 
that we do not understand,” said Mrs. Clarke 
with genuine grief in her voice ; “ she did not 
come into this state all at once.” 

“ Of course not : she could not be satisfied 
with a single tiny taste, like other people, at 
receptions and parties, but would drink glass 
after glass until her friends and acquaintances 
ceased to invite her, they were so ashamed.” 

“Ashamed of what?” 


312 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Amy ignored Miss Curtis’ question entirely. 

“ Her father never would allow a drop of 
anything in the house, so she went to first-class 
saloons and bought it, and when her parents 
would not allow her any more money she 
pawned her watch and jewelry and used the 
funds she received for them for the same pur- 
pose.” 

“ Did you know this ?” inquired Mrs. Broad 
in a low tone of Lucy. 

Lucy’s “Yes,” was scarcely audible. 

“ Do you blame us for dropping her from 
our coterie ?” inquired Amy. 

“ No !” was uttered emphatically by several 
voices, and “Yes!” came distinctly from Miss 
Curtis. 

“Would you have us encourage vice?” said 
Margaret in her coldest tone. 

“Yes,” she repeated, but not to Margaret’s 
question, “ I do blame you. Is it any worse to 
tempt people in elegant parlors than in splendid 
saloons ?” Then replying to Margaret, “You call 
it encouraging vice when folks are enticed into 
rum-shops, but what is it when folks are tempted 
in other places ? There are plenty to run after 
common drunkards and try to bring ’em back, 
and it ’s all well enough, but who ever tries to 
stop those who are way up — members of first 
society, as you call it ? Are you altogether guilt- 


THANKSGIVING. 


313 


less for Sarah Bennett’s condition ? if so, who is 
to blame ? ai n’t any of yon got nothing to an- 
swer for in the matter ?” 

No, don’t you try to stop me,” she added 
vehemently to Miss Fray’s timid “ Oh, Miss Cur- 
tis !” and Margaret’s icy, “You forget your- 
self!” 

“I ain’t forgot myself. I am just remem- 
bering what you all seem to forget ; or be you, 
after you ’ve put temptation in her way, going 
to ask as one of old did, ‘ Am I my brother’s 
keeper ?’ ” 

“ Why, Miss Curtis, what do you mean ? who 
has put temptation in her way ?” inquired Mrs. 
French. 

“Them that had wine at their entertain- 
ments.” 

“ But, Miss Curtis, you would not have every 
one go without dessert because there happened 
to be one in the family with whom it did not 
agree, would you ?” inquired Mrs. Perkins, with 
what she considered great diplomacy. 

“Yes,” replied Miss Curtis undauntedly, “if 
desserts were going to send that one to perdi- 
tion if she ate ’em. Oh, men and women 1 do 
you realize what you ’re doing ? What be you 
going to say to Sarah Bennett when you meet 
her at the judgment ?” 

And the speaker, waiting for no reply, turned 


314 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


and walked slowly down the steps, followed by 
Will, who escorted her home. 

“ Oh, I am so sorry,” exclaimed Mrs. Broad, 
as the sound of their footsteps died away. “ I 
certainly cannot have her come here if she talks 
so. You must all remember her ignorance and 
excuse her.” 

“ Miss Curtis is my friend,” said Lucy quiet- 
ly, “ and she has only done what she believes 
to be her duty. Before we condemn her let us 
ask ourselves if her words are not true.” 

And Roger Bradleigh, who had been sitting 
in the shadow watching her, felt that she would 
stand as firmly by her convictions as Miss Curtis 
had, although in a different way. 

Lucy added no comment to her words, but 
skilfully turned the conversation by saying, 
“ Sarah is not the only one we miss. I long 
for dear little Fay until sometimes it seems as 
though I could not be denied.” 

'‘ I am so glad you spoke of her,” said Mrs. 
Clarke. “ I read a little notice in the paper 
about some kind of work that her father is do- 
ing in her name. Can you tell me anything 
about it ?” 

Lucy’s voice was very tender as she said, 
“ You know that if Faith had been spared she 
would have been heir to a very large fortune. 
Before she died she requested her father to 


THANKSGIVING. 


315 


Spend it all in doings good, by helping others 
in some way to lead better lives and to learn to 
love her Saviour.” 

Dear little thing,” said Miss Pray. 

“ Mr. Fairbanks hardly knew how to com- 
mence,” continued Lucy. He was almost 
heart-broken, and to change the current of his 
thoughts used to take long walks. One evening 
he was going through Hanover Street — ” 

‘‘ Was not that where his daughter met with 
the accident ?” interrupted Mrs. Perkins. 

“ Yes, and he felt as though there he might 
find some way to carry out Faith’s wishes. On 
this evening as he was passing a brilliantly- 
lighted liquor-shop he saw an old woman, with- 
out a bonnet, but with a shawl thrown over her 
gray hair, turned into the street.” 

“ What did they turn her out for ?” asked 
Mrs. French, evidently not conversant with the 
manner in which the traffic was carried on. 

“ She had probably spent all her money and 
the liquor-dealer could hope for no farther gain 
from her.” 

“ She ought to be ashamed of herself,” said 
Mrs. Perkins with considerable emphasis. 

“Mr. Fairbanks stepped up to her,” continued 
Lucy, not heeding the interruption, “ and found 
that she was poorly clad and that her face was 
seamed and wrinkled. 


3i6 ' LUCY broad’s choice. 

‘ They ’ve turned me out,’ she said bitterly. 
I ai n’t got no money and so they ai n’t got no 
more use for me.’ 

“ ‘ Why do you not go home ?’ 

she repeated bitterly, ‘perhaps 
you ’d like to know where my home is. At 
present it ’s an empty dry goods box back of 
Humphry’s store. ’T wa’ n’t allwys so ! I was 
in comfortable circumstances till the demon of 
drink got possession of me, and then I com- 
menced to go down, down, till here I am ; and 
I ai n’t alone, there ’s hundreds like me.’ 

“ Mr. Fairbanks was greatly shocked, and re- 
solved at once that he would found a home for 
just such poor, destitute, forsaken women.” 

“ What a noble thing to do,” said Mrs. Clarke ; 
“ how has he succeeded ?” 

“ I think Margaret can tell you better than 
I.” 

Margaret thus appealed to said, “I do not 
know much about it, my taste does not lie in 
that direction ; but he bought a miserable liquor- 
saloon and has fitted it up with sleeping-rooms, 
dining-room, parlor and office, with a hall on 
the first floor where they hold meetings every 
night from eight o’clock until midnight.” 

“ How beautiful,” said Mrs. Clarke with a 
sigh of satisfaction. “ Do many girls or women 
go there ?” 
















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THANKSGIVING. 


. 317 


“ Oh, yes ! I believe it is packed every 
night ; quite popular among the Hanover ^ite,” 
replied Margaret sarcastically. 

Her reply put an end to the conversation, 
and the neighbors soon took their leave. 

Nothing else occurred to mar the pleasure 
of Margaret and Amy whose visit was contin- 
ued into November. Light snows announced 
the coming winter before they said “Good-bye," 
and Amy’s parting words were, “ I must go 
home so as to be there in time to greet you all 
at Thanksgiving." 

She was not disappointed in her plan, and 
the day before Thanksgiving found the Broads 
all in Leicester, and Amy gave herself up for a 
good time, determined to keep her cousin with 
her all winter if possible. 

“ I am so glad it is good sleighing," she said 
as Lucy removed her wraps. “You have never 
seen Margaret’s grandmother, and now you will 
have a chance, for she has invited us young 
folks to spend to-morrow with her. You know 
she lives eight miles out of the city, and we are 
to start right after breakfast, four of us in a 
double sleigh and two in a single. Won’t it be 
delightful !" 

Mrs. Broad thought that a great deal of the 
delight would depend upon who went in the 
single sleigh, and was most gratified the next 


LUCY broad's choice. 


morning when standing by the drawing-room 
window, to see Lucy seated in that sleigh, and 
Roger after tucking the soft fur robe carefully 
about her, take his place beside her. 

They were a happy party, for all seemed in 
excellent spirits, and many words and light 
laughter floated on the frosty air as they glided 
rapidly along. 

“We won’t tell Lucy which is the house,” 
called Amy, as they neared their destination, 
“ see if you can find it.” 

“ I have my idea,” replied her cousin, watch- 
ing carefully as they passed farmhouses and 
cottages. 

“ I think this is the place,” she said, as they 
came in sight of a large white house standing 
well back from the street. It faced the south 
and stood on a slight eminence. Two snow- 
covered evergreen trees stood to shield the door, 
which was thrown wide open as the musical 
bells announced their arrival and the sleigh 
stopped before the gate. 

Lucy was introduced and most cordially re- 
ceived, and then she had time to notice her host 
and hostess while other greetings were being 
exchanged. 

“ I do not wonder that Margaret is so hand- 
some,” she thought, looking at the tall, stately 
couple. 


THANKSGIVING. 


319 


Mrs. Bradleigh’s dress was a soft drab of the 
richest material, but perfectly plain, with a full 
skirt, small sleeves and short full waist, between 
the folds of which was crossed a white lace 
handkerchief. Her silvery hair was brushed 
back plainly from her high brow, or as plainly 
as could be, for it would wave, and its abund- 
ance was concealed beneath a lace cap made 
with a full narrow frill. 

She noticed that the furniture was plain but 
massive, of the style of seventy-five or a hundred 
years ago, and the appointments of the whole 
house as well as its owners betokened the sim- 
plicity of elegance, or the elegance of simplicity, 
as she expressed it afterward. There was no 
bric-a-brac, which would have seemed entirely 
out of place with the quaint furnishings. 

“ Thee is very welcome,*' said Mrs. Bradleigh, 
laying a white hand on her arm. “I already 
feel acquainted with thee through my grand- 
daughter Margaret.” 

Roger was delighted to see that each had 
made a good impression on the other. 

‘‘ Miss Broad is a young lady after your own 
heart, grandma,” he said. “ Do you know,” 
turning to Lucy, “ she had all her cider apple- 
trees cut down because she would not have 
them used for making cider ?” 

A quick gleam of intelligence and sympathy 


320 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


passed between the two women ; they under- 
stood each other, and Lucy felt perfectly at 
home. No effort was seemingly made to enter- 
tain her, and yet the moments passed delight- 
fully, full of pleasant and profitable conversa- 
tion. 

The rooms were all open, and seeing that 
Lucy looked admiringly at the antique furni- 
ture, Mrs. Bradleigh gave her several bits of in- 
teresting history connected with them, and she 
was so interested that the summons to dinner 
came before she thought the forenoon could 
possibly have passed. The dining-room was as 
attractive as the rest of the house. The table 
was covered with snowy damask and set with 
ancient blue and white china dishes of quaint 
shapes, and the thin glass and silver dated their 
manufacture to a century before. No blessing 
was asked audibly, but each sat for several mo- 
ments with folded hands and bowed head ; and 
Lucy thought the silence more impressive than 
words. 

An atmosphere of refined Christian culture 
seemed to pervade the whole house. It made 
Lucy long to adopt the plain dress and lan- 
guage if they would bring to her the peace they 
seemed to have given to the loving couple who 
had spent all their life there, and she wondered 
how Margaret could give up the simple manner 


THANKSGIVING. 


321 


of Speech and peaceful harmony of her father’s 
birth-place, for the idle talk and specious glitter 
of more modern society. 

As the twilight deepened a fire was kindled 
in the spacious fire-place and all gathered 
around it, enjoying the crackling flames and 
watching the huge logs as they yielded to the 
blaze and assumed fanciful shapes and forms. 

''Now, grandpa,” said Roger, "tell us all 
about when you were a young man. I believe 
that is the way we used to petition when we 
were children.” 

And the happy old man laughed, and rub- 
bing his hands together told them of the time 
when the country round them was sparsely set- 
tled, when the nearest neighbor was nearly a 
mile distant, and of the old-fashioned huskings 
and quiltings, of the berry parties and fruit 
gatherings, of the long quiet drives through the 
pine woods when he and his Margaret rode to 
the old log school-house to meeting. It was a 
long time before they had a meeting-house, and 
he sometimes longed now for the Sabbath still- 
ness of the woods when the only sound was the 
wind sighing through the trees filling the air 
with pungent spicy fragrance. 

How quickly the moments flew as they lis- 
tened to him, while the coals fell on the hearth 

with a soft dull drop ; then corn was brought 
21 


322 


LUCY BROAD'S CHOICE. 


and parched and golden apples roasted. There 
was amber honey on the supper table, and yel- 
low butter churned that day, and ruby preserves, 
the fruit for which had been gathered from the 
garden back of the house, and Lucy wished that 
she might spend weeks in the old home, and 
was truly sorry when the sleigh was brought to 
the door. 

Mrs. Bradleigh held her hand as she bade 
the others “ Farewell,” and then turning to her 
said, Lucy, I want thee to use all thy influence 
for Margaret. Do not mind if she sneers and is 
cynical; thy words will not be lost, but like 
bread cast upon the water will return to thee if 
not until after many days. I long that Mar- 
garet shall know the peace which passeth un- 
derstanding, the peace of her forefathers, and I 
depend upon thee to influence her to choose the 
way which will bring it. Farewell ! I hope I 
shall meet thee often.” 

Roger noticed that Lucy was very quiet as 
he assisted her into the sleigh. The moon was 
just rising and the snow reflected her rays with 
a soft mellow light. The way soon led through 
a pine wood. “ The same road grandpa told us 
of, which led to the school-house,” Roger re- 
marked. Lucy simply nodded for reply ; her 
thoughts were evidently far away. 

The sound of merry voices from the double 


THANKSGIVING. 


323 


sleigh was growing fainter and fainter in the 
distance ; the weather had moderated since 
morning and the damp snow fell softly from 
the bending pine boughs. It seemed a peaceful 
ending to a calm sweet day, and Roger Brad- 
leigh, longing to add to the happiness, offered 
Lucy a place she was well adapted to fill: a 
position of honor with him through life. Lucy 
knew that if she accepted she could shine in the 
world of fashion with unbounded wealth at her 
command, and she would be the envy of many 
of her acquaintances. But with the sweet mem- 
ory of the day filling her head with aspirations 
for higher and better things, she did not readily 
reply, and he, knowing that if the answer were 
in the negative, it would never be revoked, has- 
tened to add, “ Do not decide to-night if you are 
not prepared ; take time to consider ; a year, if 
you wish.” 

He knew that there were many things in 
his life to which she objected, and resolved to 
put them aside for a twelve months at least, 
until he could show her that he could meet all 
her expectations. And Lucy, glad of the respite, 
entered the house with the calm of the day still 
in her face, and the longing for higher and bet- 
ter things filling her heart. 


324 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE QUESTION ANSWERED, 

“ I HAVE a project for this evening which I 
think will please you,” said Amy to her cousin, 
at the breakfast table the next morning. 

“ What is it ? I like to be pleased,” returned 
Lucy, smiling. 

I have made arrangements to go to the 
Mission.” 

What mission ?” Mrs. Broad’s voice ex- 
pressed a little anxiety. 

“The one on Hanover Street.” 

“ Oh, but is not that a dreadful place ?” 

“The very worst in the city,” replied Amy, 
complacently. 

“ I hope you will not go. I am sure it is not 
only unsafe but unlady-like.” 

“ Now, auntie, it is quite the thing, I assure 
you. Indeed, our first young ladies frequent 
it.” 

^^Fast young ladies, you mean,” interpolated 
Harry, evidently wishing to add to his aunt’s 
perplexity. 

“ But I thought it was a mission for the low- 
est class of people,” said Mrs. Broad, becoming 
more and more mystified. 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 325 

“ So it is ; but if there were no philanthro- 
pists who would teach them anything ? Then, 
you know, this mission is very popular because 
the elegant and affluent Mr. Fairbanks not only 
founded or started it but supports it.” 

Oh, is that the one ?” Mrs. Broad looked 
somewhat relieved. Won’t you tell me some 
more about it? Your description, that beau- 
tiful evening at Oakhurst, was somewhat 
meagre.” 

I do not know that there is much more to 
tell. It is called the Faith Mission, and a dozen 
or fifteen girls have been converted and are 
living there until other places can be provided 
for them.” 

“ But is it safe for you to go down in that 
dreadful neighborhood ?” 

Why, auntie ! we are not going alone. My 
lady Margaret is to accompany us, and we each 
have a big brother to look after us.” 

Mrs. Broad looked greatly relieved. 

“ Speaking of that evening on the veranda 
at your house, there was one piece of informa- 
tion I was tempted to give for the benefit of that 
cranky Miss Curtis, but my better feelings pre- 
dominated and I refrained. Sarah Bennett 
has left her home and no one knows where 
she is ?” 

“An exclamation of surprise and dismay 


326 


LUCY BROAD’S CHOICE. 


went round the table. Only Lucy was quiet; 
her face was very pale and something in its ex- 
pression caused Amy to say, “ Now, what is it, 
Lucy? I would rather you would speak, any 
time, than look so.” 

“ I can interpret her expression,” said Harry 
before she could reply, “ she holds you not alto- 
gether guiltless,” and he looked mischievously 
at his cousin as though expecting to enjoy the 
controversy he evidently hoped to provoke. 

But Hazel was beginning to feel neglected 
and interrupted with, “ Never mind, Lucy ! I 
want some more omelette and breakfast.” 

Lucy was glad of the diversion and also that 
nothing more was said on the subject. 

Eight o’clock found them on their way to the 
Mission, and not all Harry’s raillery nor Amy’s 
chatter could draw Lucy into more than a con- 
versation of monosyllables. She was thinking 
of Sarah and Fay : contrasting the two lives, 
and wondering how she could reach the former 
and help her. 

They left the cars at the head of Hanover 
Street, and picked their way carefully over the 
uneven pavements and through the crowds 
which thronged the sidewalks. 

Half way down the street they saw a trans- 
parency bearing the words, “ Faith Mission,- 
All are Welcome and as they neared the 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 327 

building they heard singing, and out through 
the open door, for it was open in spite of the 
cold, rang the words, 

“ What a fellowship, what a joy divine. 

Leaning on the everlasting arms ; 

What a blessedness, what peace is mine. 

Leaning on the everlasting arms. 

“ Oh, how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way, 

Leaning on the everlasting arms ; 

Oh, how bright the path grows from day to day. 
Leaning on the everlasting arms. 

“ What have I to dread, what have I to fear. 

Leaning on the everlasting arms ? 

I have blessed peace with my Lord so near, 

Leaning on the everlasting arms.” 

A crowd stood before the building and on 
the steps and it was with difficulty that the little 
party made their way through ; but that accom- 
plished they crossed a long narrow passage-way 
in which a number of people were standing, and 
entered a door at the right which admitted them 
at once to the hall. 

The room was already full and it was with 
some trouble that places were finally found for 
them near the platform. After they were at 
last seated Lucy looked around her. She had 
never seen such a motley assembly before. Men 
and women in ragged apparel, some of them in 
a state of semi-intoxication ; with unkempt hair 
and faces upon which was written the imprint 


32S LUCY broad’s choice. 

of vice. They returned her look with a bold 
stare and some were laughing and whispering, 
and Lucy wondered why they were, there and 
hoped that some word spoken that evening would 
arrest their attention and cause them to long for 
better things. 

On the platform which was at one end of the 
hall, and facing the audience, were six or seven 
men and women, evidently from an entirely 
different state of society, and she soon saw that 
they were the leaders of the meeting, who took 
entire charge of the service. Directly in front 
of her was an organ, and at the left of it sat four- 
teen or fifteen girls. Lucy was puzzled at first 
to designate them. They were neatly and even 
tastefully dressed, and decorous and orderly in 
their conduct. They wore no hats, which fact 
revealed to her that they were the “ girls ” of 
whom Amy had spoken as being converted and 
living there; and then she forgot them all as 
her eyes caught sight of a life-size portrait hang- 
ing on the wall at the right of the organ. The 
laughing hazel eyes, rosy dimpled mouth and 
bright clustering curls, brushed carelessly back 
from the white brow, were all so life-like that 
Lucy’s gaze was fascinated. The face, though 
bright, wore a thoughtful expression, which 
Faith’s friends, sometimes, though rarely, had 
seen there, and which harmonized most appro- 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 329 

priately with the place from which she seemed 
to look down with tender longing for the poor 
unfortunate ones, many of whom were very 
evidently not taking thought for themselves. 
And as the words, 

“ Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling. 

Calling for you and for me,” 

came to Lucy’s ear, it seemed as though dear 
little Fay herself must be singing them. 

Reluctantly she looked away from the dear 
face. The singing had ceased and the leader 
offered a few words of prayer, followed by a 
short Scripture reading ; at its close he made a 
few remarks, ending with an earnest invitation 
for all present to heed the words of song to 
which they had just listened, and closed his 
exhortation by saying that the meeting was open 
for all ; one by one the girls by the organ rose, 
and told of the wonderful change which had 
come into their lives. 

One had been saved from the opium habit 
to which she had been addicted for twelve 
years: several had been redeemed from the 
power of strong drink, and others from worse 
sins, and all, as with one voice, expressed grat- 
itude for the Faith Mission and those whose 
kind thoughtfulness had helped and guided 
them in the new way. 

Then followed testimonies from others, crude 


330 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


and ungrammatical, but full of deep feelings of 
joy that they had found a Saviour, and that sin 
no longer had power over them. 

Lucy was fascinated and took no note of 
time until Amy whispered, “ It is almost eleven 
o’clock, and my lady Margaret is becoming res- 
tive.” But Lucy noticed that there were tears 
in her cousin’s eyes, and that even fun-loving 
Harry seemed touched ; but stately Margaret’s 
beautiful face wore a look of scorn, and one 
faultlessly gloved hand involuntarily held aside 
the folds of her rich dress as though fearful that 
it might be contaminated by the contact of some- 
thing plebeian. Lucy sighed as she remem- 
bered her grandmother’s words, and wondered 
how she could comply with her request, for 
nothing seemed to move Margaret : no pity for 
others, no care for her own spiritual life soft- 
ened her expression. But they had all risen, 
and reluctantly she followed them from the 
hall, through the narrow entry and down the 
steps, and then they all paused as a young girl 
came reeling towards them, followed by a crowd 
of jeering, hooting hoodlums. 

She paid no attention to them, but paused 
before the little party who had just left the hall. 

“What are you looking at?” she exclaimed, 
and then her tone changed to one of intense 
scorn as she caught sight of the varied expres- 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 33 1 

sions of pity and contempt depicted on the face, 
before her. 

“You look at me as though I had a dozen 
heads. I am as good as you are any day, Mar- 
garet Bradleigh and Amy Eliot,” she said with 
intense vehemence in her tone. “ I cannot ex- 
press my abhorrence of you,” and she passed 
on up the steps, while Roger caught hold of 
Lucy, thinking she was about to faint, for her 
face was white and her form tottered ; but she 
regained her self-composure in a moment and 
looking at the rest said, “ Oh, tell me that I am 
mistaken ! it was not, could not be Sarah ?” 

“ It could and it was,” exclaimed Amy trucu- 
lently. “ The good-for-nothing, hateful, spiteful 
thing.” 

“ Oh, Amy, do n’t !” and Lucy walked to- 
ward the car, declining all assistance save from 
her brother. 

The ride home was a silent one, and the feel- 
ings of the little party varied, if the expression 
of their countenances was an index. Lucy’s face 
expressed amazement and grief ; Amy’s anger, 
and Margaret’s, the utmost contempt. Roger 
seemed more intent to please Lucy than dis- 
turbed by the event. Will, with a face full of 
deep pity, looked steadily out of the window, 
seeing nothing, and Harry was very quiet, a 
most unusual circumstance for him. 


332 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Lucy was glad that the lateness of the hour 
released her from the obligation of seeing the 
family ; but it was only a short respite, for the 
matter was fully discussed at the breakfast-table 
the next morning, after Amy and Harry had 
given a graphic account of the adventures of 
the previous evening, 

“ I am glad that Sarah did not try to talk 
with you ; what would you have done if she 
had ?” inquired Mrs. Broad. 

“ Gotten away from her as soon as possible,” 
replied Amy sententiously. 

“And what would you have done, Lucy?” 
asked her aunt. 

“ She was in no condition for any one to talk 
with then.” Lucy’s answer was evasive, and 
her aunt, after looking at her curiously for a 
moment, suffered the matter to drop. 

“ My ! wasn’t my lady Margaret disgusted !” 
said Harry. “ I do not suppose that she ever 
came in contact with so many low people in all 
her aristocratic life,” and he laughed at the 
memory of her looks and acts of disapproval. 

“ I would like to know how she feels this 
morning ; let ’s go and see,” and Amy jumped 
up from the table with alacrity. 

“ Is it not too early ?” inquired Mrs. Broad 
doubtfully. 

* “Oh, no! Margaret would not be surprised 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 333 

to see me at any hour during the day or 
night.” 

'‘You must be a privileged character then,” 
said her brother, “for I know she frequently 
is not at home to people, when she is comfort- 
ably ensconsed in some easy -chair, reading.” 

“ She will see us,” replied his sister. 

They found her in the reception-room ar- 
ranging the flowers she had gathered from the 
conservatory. 

She appeared as usual, and in reply to Amy’s 
question as to what she thought of the events 
of the previous evening, said she was convinced 
that the Faith Mission was very much needed, 
but she pitied the folks who had charge of it, 
and for her part she proposed to keep away 
from it in future. She did not wish to go and 
hear girls with the marks of sin in their faces 
stand up and say they were living good pure 
lives. As far as she was concerned she did not 
believe in such marvellous changes, a girl on the 
street one night, and washed from all sin, as 
they expressed it, and made clean and white, 
the next. 

“ But, Margaret,” commenced Lucy, but she 
was interrupted by a voice in the hall. 

“ Stand aside ! I tell you I will see Miss 
Bradleigh.” 

“ I do not believe she can see you this morn- 


334 LUCY broad’s choice. 

ing ; she has other company,” The servant was 
evidently perplexed. 

“ That makes no difference to me. I have a 
message for her.” 

‘‘ I will take it to her. Or stay,” as the visi^ 
tor evidently tried to push her way in, “ I will 
take your name to her.” 

“ Robert, stand aside ! I have been here a 
great many times, as you know. I do not need 
you to show me the way nor to announce me,” 
and the door opened and admitted Sarah. 

The young ladies had recognized her voice 
and looked at her with varied expressions as she 
closed the door and stood with her back against 
it. She was neatly clad, but Lucy noticed that 
the dress was one she had seen her wear when 
they were at school together, and both hat and 
sacque were the style of several seasons past. 
She was perfectly sober, and met the gaze of 
the trio with a calm, steady look. 

Margaret’s face was a study. She was white 
to the very lips ; her eyes flashed, but she held 
herself quiet, outwardly at least. 

Sarah was the first to break the silence which 
followed her appearance. I am glad that you 
are all here,” she said. “You are not pleased to 
see me I know, but that makes no difference 
now,” and there was a little tremble in her voice 
as she uttered the last word ; but she regained 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 335 

her composure and continued, “ Surely you can 
indulge an old friend with a few moments of 
your valuable time,” and she laughed a bitter 
laugh with no merriment in it. I do not look 
like the friend you were so glad to see only a 
few months ago, do I ? Who is to blame for it ? 
Not Lucy. I will exonerate her from the be- 
ginning. She professed to be a Christian and 
she has led a consistent life ; if you and others 
had been like her I should not have been here 
with a message this morning.” 

“ You can have no message for us that we care 
to hear,” said Margaret in her most icy tone. 

“ Probably not,” retorted Sarah, coolly, “ nev- 
ertheless you will hear it. Amy Eliot, what did 
you join the church for ?” 

Why — ” gasped Amy, and then paused. 

Sarah looked at her, scornfully at first and 
then her expression changed to one of pity. 
“ You probably thought you were doing right 
at the time, and perhaps you were,” she con- 
tinued ; and then her tone grew bitter again. 
‘‘You would have done better if you had not. 
What good have you ever done ? Who is the 
better for your profession ? If you still wished 
to play cards, dance, and attend the theatre, 
drink wine, and conduct yourself the same as 
you did before, why did you not stay in the 
world where you belong, and not make yourself 


336 LUCY broad’s choice. 

a stumbling-block for others to fall over? I 
honor Margaret for her cold-hearted infidelity 
more than I do you for your hypocrisy.” 

“ Sarah Bennett, will you leave the room and 
the house ?” said Margaret, haughtily. 

*‘No!” and Sarah’s tone was exasperatingly 
calm, “ not until I tell you that you and Amy 
are to blame for the position I occupy this 
morning. I could not, cannot help it ; only my 
Heavenly Father knows how I have struggled 
against it. You did not know that my grand- 
father was a drunkard, when you put tempta- 
tion before me, and that I inherited the fatal 
appetite. Oh, do not look so shocked ! I assure 
you he was a respectable drinker. Never in the 
gutter. Oh, no! he had his nice wine and 
champagne in his own elegant home, for he was 
very rich, and was never drunk in public. No, 
indeed, but he had frequent ill turns which con- 
fined him to the house for several days at a 
time,” and again she laughed that bitter laugh, 
full of scorn and intense feeling. 

Her audience sat spell-bound now, with no 
attempt to stop the torrent of words. 

'' I never knew the taste of liquor until I 
went to that school for young ladies with em- 
phasis on the last word ; “ it was never allowed 
in my home in any form. You know how it 
was at school ; surreptitious spreads with brandy 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 337 

drops and ices flavored with wine. After that 
it was very easy to supply myself with brandy 
drops until I came home ; they were not allowed 
there, but this very dear friend,’' nodding her 
head toward Amy, “ must be fashionable and so 
she had wine at her party, and the consequence 
was I was drunk.” 

She paused a moment and her large dark 
eyes were full of pathos as she resumed in a 
softer voice, “ It is not a pretty word is it? does 
not sound well in good society such as I have 
the honor to be in now. Well, I do not blame 
you so much, Amy, for you have not the strength 
of character that Margaret has. She could set 
the fashion and others would follow: but, no! 
it was not worth while to be called peculiar in 
order to save a soul. I beg pardon ! Of course, 
my lady does not believe in that doctrine. Ac- 
cording to her ideas we have no souls. Let us 
eat and drink then, and what difference does it 
make if I imbibe too much, for to-morrow we 
die and that is the end of us, according to her 
theory : or what do you think becomes of us ? 
Let me tell you one thing, Margaret Bradleigh, 
whether you believe there is a place of eternal 
punishment or not, I know there is, for the tor- 
ment commences here ; and I am going there as 
fast as I can go, and you helped to start me on 
the way, and you would not violate one law of 
22 


338 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


fashion to stay my course. Of course not, for 
you do not believe what I say, but you have got 
to face it later.” 

The words fell rapidly from her lips, seem- 
ingly with no thought on her part, and gather- 
ing vehemence as she spoke, and then her tone 
changed again and there was inexpressible grief 
and longing in it as she continued, “ Do not 
think that I came to this place willingly or of 
my own volition. I have fought and struggled 
and prayed, but the appetite comes over me like 
a frenzy. The Bible says that no drunkard 
^ shall inherit the kingdom of God.’ I do not 
wonder, for they are not fit for that pure place. 
Think of our associating with angels. Oh, there 
is no hope for me ; but for you, oh Amy ! not 
only profess, but possess, and live up to your 
profession. Let your light shine, and if meat 
causes your brother to offend, do not eat it ; and 
if wine keeps people out of the heavenly home, 
do not drink it. 

“ And Margaret ! it is not too late for you. 
You can turn squarely about, and I warn you to 
do so while you have the chance : before you 
have sinned away the day of grace. Not that 
there is any danger of your becoming like me, 
but the unbelieving are second in that fearful 
procession who are marching to perdition, and 
you are one of the throng. 


THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 339 

“ And now, farewell. I never intend to see 
or trouble you again. Forgive me if my words 
have seemed harsh, but my heart is broken and 
I long for better things, but I am despised while 
you stand high. May you never know the an- 
guish which fills my heart at this time.” 

Lucy laid her hand on Sarah’s arm and looked 
into her face with beseeching eyes, but she put 
her gently aside and went out into the hall, clos- 
ing the door after her. 

No word was spoken by the trio she left 
for several moments, and then Amy rose and 
left the room, followed by Lucy. 

“ What do you think of such a tirade ?” she 
inquired as they gained the street. “ I declare,” 
she continued before her cousin could reply, “ I 
think it is dreadful. Oh, dear! what shall I 
do ?” and even the fact that she was walking on 
the public highway could not restrain the hys- 
terical sobs which shook her frame. 

She was very glad on reaching home to find 
that her mother and aunt had gone to make 
some calls, and if they noticed her sober face on 
their return they ascribed it to the fact that her 
cousin was going home, which indeed was an 
added factor to her grief, for she dreaded the 
inevitable companionship of her own thoughts 
in the days which were to follow. 


340 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XX. 

OTHER QUESTIONS, 

The passengers in the parlor-car that after- 
noon noticed the preoccupied air of Lucy, in 
striking contrast to the restless activity of her 
little sister. But Lucy gave no heed. Her mind 
was full of the events of the morning, and she 
hardly knew who most claimed her sympathy, 
Sarah, Margaret, or Amy. 

Certainly the latter, sitting alone in her own 
room, was an object of commiseration. She was 
trying to work out a solution to her own ques- 
tion of the morning, “ What shall I do ?” She 
never remembered being in such a tumult be- 
fore, and her first feelings were of anger toward 
Sarah that she had dared to talk to her so. Oh, 
I do wish Lucy had not gone home,” she thought, 
“ I want some one to advise me.” And with her 
cousin’s name came a mental picture of her life, 
and again she contrasted it with her own man- 
ner of living, and somehow the balance of favor 
seemed to be on Lucy’s side. 

“ People do not seem to blame her,” she com- 
mented, “ for not conforming to their ideas. I 
wonder what they would think if I should do as 
she does?” 


OTHER QUESTIONS. 


341 


Instinctively she shrank from the trial. 

“ What a sensation it would make,” she con- 
tinued to herself, “ if I should refuse to dance 
or to play cards.” 

Then there came to her the memory of the 
vows she took upon herself when she publicly 
confessed her Saviour and promised to be his 
disciple unto death. Was she living up to them ? 
She was obliged, though reluctantly, to confess 
that she was not. Were they not as obligatory 
now as then ? She paused a long time over this 
question, and then decided on a compromise. 
She would attend the evening service more reg- 
ularly and read her Bible oftener, and would 
commence at once. She took the Bible from the 
table and opened it, running her eyes over the 
pages until her attention was arrested by the 
Saviour’s own words : “No man can serve two 
masters: for either he will hate the one and 
love the other, or else he will hold to the one 
and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God 
and mammon.” 

She closed the book with the wish that she 
had not opened it. But conscience was awak- 
ened. Sarah’s words, “ What good have you 
ever done ?” and, “ Who is the better for your 
profession ?” echoed in her mind. Was she a 
hypocrite ? The problem was too deep for her ; 
she could not solve it, neither could she dismiss 


342 LUCY BROAD^S CHOICE. 

it from her thought. For days it haunted her, 
until all peace of mind was lost and she took no 
pleasure in anything. 

She continued reading her Bible daily, at 
first in a perfunctory manner and then with a 
desire for comfort; but its solemn words re- 
proached her until she felt that she must find 
relief in some way ; and so one evening she re- 
fused to attend a card party, eliciting from her 
friend Marjorie Manning the query, “ What has 
come over you? Why can’t you go ?” 

“ I can’t,” stammered Amy. “ I think — have 
thought, that perhaps it would be better that I 
did n’t know — ” 

“ Well, I should not think you did,” inter- 
terrupted Marjorie. “Can’t you talk? If you 
have anything to say, why do n’t you say it?” 

“ I have thought,” commenced Amy again, 
“ that perhaps I would not play cards any more, 
as may be it was not consistent with my profes- 
sion.” 

“ I never knew that you professed anything 
until a short time ago,” returned Marjorie blunt- 
ly, “ but I am glad that at last you have found 
courage to do as you ought. I am not a church 
member, but if ever I am I will not play cards. 
I will not say one one thing and live another.” 

And now Amy was thoroughly amazed. Was 
it possible that the world condemned her — the 


OTHER QUESTIONS. 


343 


world which held out such allurements ? Would 
she not be called a crank, after all ? In perfect 
amazement she struggled on for days longer, 
until her mother, noticing that she absented 
herself from many places she had been in the 
habit of attending, asked the cause. 

Again Amy hesitated and stammered, and it 
was only by questioning that her mother finally 
drew the truth from her. 

“ What do you intend to do ?” she asked, 
when the matter was made sufficiently clear to 
her. 

“ Oh, I do not know, I am sure,’’ sobbed poor 
Amy. 

Heretofore it had been almost impossible for 
her to tell her mother anything of the state of 
her feelings. She had felt that she could not — 
that it would be easier to speak of them to any 
other person ; but having done so, she hoped 
for comfort and guidance. But how could her 
mother direct her in a way of which she herself 
knew nothing ? 

I am sorry that you are so disturbed,” she 
said, “ but I have often wondered what differ- 
ence your joining the church had made in your 
life, and why you were so different from Lucy. 
Of course, I am very glad to have you enjoy 
yourself, but it seems to me that you have done 
very little of that lately. I should think that 


344 LUCY broad’s choice. 

you had just religion enough to make yourself 
miserable.” 

What was Amy to do ? 

“ I am miserable,” she replied, “ and I am 
going to Oakhurst to see Lucy.” 

Very gladly was she welcomed by her cousin 
a few days later, and very tenderly Lucy sought 
to show her the cause of her trouble. 

'‘You have left your first love,” she said. 
“ You have wandered from the narrow way, and 
you must retrace your steps, giving up all doubt- 
ful things, and follow in the way of obedience — 
from a sense of duty at first, if need be, and love 
will come later.” 

Amy was thoroughly in earnest now, and 
tried to follow her cousin’s suggestions, but it 
was not easy. All her friends and acquaintances 
were not like Marjorie ; she met some opposition 
and sneers, and many times she faltered and 
was tempted to abandon all effort. 

No joy came to her and duty was distasteful ; 
but she kept on, in a feeble way, until it came 
to be a matter of course that she should attend 
the Friday evening meeting, and gradually her 
name was omitted when sets were made up for 
playing cards, and after a while people forgot 
to comment on the change in her life ; they had 
other things to engross their attention, and with 
each act of duty a little strength was obtained 


OTHER QUESTIONS. 


345 


for the next, and the way grew less thorny ; but 
it was years before she really regained what she 
had lost in wasted and misspent time, and she 
looked back with regret that she had not been 
as decided in her convictions and lived up to 
them as firmly as Lucy and Dorothy had. 

And Margaret ? She sat perfectly quiet after 
Lucy and Amy left the room that cold grey 
morning, her beautiful face calm and immova- 
ble, and in her usual philosophical manner com- 
menced reviewing the words of Sarah. 

She had called herself an “ old friend.” She 
had been that from childhood. Margaret re- 
called their school days ; they had been pleas- 
ant, and she had been fond of Sarah and passed 
many happy hours with her. She thought of. 
the midnight spreads, and remembered, what 
she had not noticed then, that Sarah was very 
fond of the brandy drops and the ices flavored 
with wine. She had given no thought at the 
time to the fact that such things constituted a 
prominent part of the suppers. 

They had been ordered from Granger’s, be-^ 
cause he served at all fashionable entertain- 
ments, and it had not occurred to her to do oth- 
erwise ; not that she cared specially for such 
things. Certainly not ! and her lip took its 
ready scornful curve at the very idea. She 


346 LUCY broad’s choice. 

would be ashamed of herself if she could not 
give them up at any time. Surely she was not 
to blame that Sarah’s morbid taste received its 
first gratification then, especially as no one knew 
that such a taste existed. 

Sarah had asked who was to blame, and had 
exonerated Lucy and Dorothy ; and Margaret, 
looking back over their acquaintance, could not 
but reach the same conclusion. If she and Amy 
had been like them — would Sarah’s statement, 
that she would not have brought the message of 
the morning — have been true ? 

She could not answer this question as easily 
and satisfactorily as the first, so she laid it aside 
for the nonce, to be resumed by itself when she 
had completed her review. 

Amy was very weak and puerile in many 
ways, and Margaret scorned weakness. She 
was glad that she had made no profession of 
being better than others, though if she had, it 
would have been no temptation to her to dance 
or play cards. No, she was too dignified for the 
former and cared very little for the latter. 

She did attend the theatre ; there was some- 
thing to be learned there, according to her way 
of thinking ; but then she would be perfectly 
willing to give it up if it caused others to go 
astray. 

Sarah had likened Amy to a stumbling-block : 


OTHER QUESTIONS. 


347 


a stumbling-block was not weak, it was some- 
thing of strength ; and then she started, for 
could not the same be said of her? Had she 
not placed wine before Sarah when she had 
every reason to believe that she would yield 
and be overcome by the sparkling temptation ? 
Margaret felt strongly condemned. She put the 
question with the other for further considera- 
tion in the near future. 

Sarah had told her that she could set the 
fashion, and she knew that she could — knew 
that if wine were banished from her table when 
she entertained, that it would disappear from 
other homes also. 

Was she to blame then ? was she responsible 
in any way for Sarah’s present condition ? Did 
she really believe that people had no souls? 
She had never put it just that way before. She 
did not believe the Bible ; why not ? that ques- 
tion must wait with the others. 

What had she got to face later ? What did 
Sarah mean by saying that she was second in 
that fearful procession? Sarah had read the 
Bible, how else could she know these things? 
She did not remember those words, but she 
would look them up. Could it be possible that 
she was mistaken? and a little doubt of her 
position began to creep into her mind. 

“ I will know the truth,” she declared to her- 


34B LUCY BROAD*S CHOICE. 

self, “ and I will find it out for myself ; no one 
shall prejudice me on either side.” 

The bell for lunch interrupted her thoughts, 
and she took her place at the table calm and 
self-possessed as usual. 

‘‘I am going to make those long -delayed 
calls,” said her mother, “ can you be ready by 
three ?” 

“ I do n’t care to go this afternoon,” replied 
Margaret. 

Her mother waited for a reason, but receiv- 
ing none, said, 

I am afraid that you will have rather a 
lonely time at home, as your father and I are 
to dine with the De Lancys, and Roger will not 
be back from New York until to-morrow.” 

But this was just what Margaret wished ; 
and giving orders that she was busy and not to 
interrupted if any one called, went to her room, 
and locking the door, walked to the book-case, 
and taking down a Bible and Concordance, for 
she had both, though why she could hardly tell, 
sat down by the window. 

First she must find about the procession to 
which Sarah had alluded. She had no trouble, 
and read the verse slowly and carefully. 

“ But the fearful and unbelieving, and the 
abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, 
and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall 


OTHER QUESTIONS. 


349 


have their part in the lake which burneth with 
fire and brimstone ; which is the second death.” 

Then there were two deaths. She did not 
believe it. Of course there was one, it did not 
need the Bible to prove that. But what did 
become of people at and after death ? was that 
really the end ? 

She read the beautiful fifteenth chapter of 
First Corinthians, then turned to the account of 
the resurrection of the Saviour. Somehow the 
words seemed to her to contain more truth than 
they had on the few rare occasions that she had 
read them before. 

Then she commenced the first chapter of 
Genesis. “ In the beginning God created the 
heaven and the earth.” 

She looked out of the window. The brown 
earth was beneath her and the blue vault of 
heaven above her. Whence did they receive 
their names ? if they were not created, how did 
they exist ? 

Margaret was astonished to find herself even 
asking the question. She did not know that 
Lucy and Dorothy had been praying for just 
this time ever since they had known her. 

She sat with the book open in her lap, her 
mind busy with these troublesome questions, 
until daylight began to disappear and the rosy 
flush of sunset lit the sky, and the evening star 


350 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Stepped forth into the blue firmament, not long 
to be alone, for it was soon joined by innumer- 
able glittering companions, and the new moon 
quietly rose above the tree-tops, a thread of sil- 
ver light. 

“ The lesser light to rule the night : he made 
the stars also.” These words repeated them- 
selves in her mind like a rythm. 

He made them. He made them, and then 
the prejudices of a life-time rose and combatted 
the thoughts striving for ascendency in her 
mind, and in the face of all this evidence Mar- 
garet slowly and distinctly said, “There is no 
God,” and hastily pulling down the shade she 
again took up her Bible, allowing it to open 
where it would, and her eyes rested on the six- 
teenth verse of the first chapter of Romans.” 

“ For I am not ashamed of the gospel of 
Christ : for it is the power of God unto salvation 
to every one that believe th ; to the Jew first, 
and also to the Greek.” 

She read through to the twenty-second verse, 
“ Professing themselves to be wise, they became 
fools.” 

Then came troublesome questions. 

She thought she was very wise, was she 'a 
fool? Mechanically she turned the leaves as 
she questioned, her eyes taking in words and 
verses without thought, until her whole atten- 


OTHER QUESTIONS. 


351 


tion was arrested by a verse in Psalms, “The 
fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.” 

She shut the book quickly and laid it not 
very gently on the table. She had never seen 
those words before. Were they true? was she 
a fool ? She, Margaret Bradleigh, with her 
keen intellect, her thorough education, her many 
talents ? 

She was not pleased with the thought and 
was glad the bell just then summoned her to 
dinner. She was also glad that she was alone, 
that she need not try to make herself agreeable 
to any one, as she expressed it to herself, for 
although her thoughts were not pleasant, she 
was determined to follow them to the end. She 
would never relax her energy in the search 
until the question was settled to her satisfaction. 

Her silent meal ended, she went to her room 
and again took up her Bible, reading here and 
there, becoming more and more confused. The 
hours passed and the French clock on the man- 
tel chimed the time of midnight and still she 
read on. 

“ But without faith it is impossible to please 
him : for he that cometh to God must believe 
that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them 
that diligently seek him.” 

“ Must believe that he is.” Here was the 
first question for her to decide. 


352 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Now Margaret had attended church because 
it was respectable. But her mind was usually 
occupied with her own thoughts or seeking for 
some point in the sermon to criticise. She knew 
that people sometimes experienced a change 
which they termed conversion, and she realized 
that somehow their lives were different after it 
or were expected to be : for the fact that there 
were weak ones like Amy did not move her. 

She was not acquainted with Lucy and Dor- 
othy before they were Christians, but Fay? 
long and tenderly she thought of her. Fay 
was always sweet and loving and lovable ; but 
after she united with the church she was differ- 
ent somehow. 

Would it do any harm to be like her and 
like Lucy and Dorothy? Would she love the 
memory of Fay less if she had died before she 
professed to be a Christian ? Dear little Fay ! 
but it was nearing daylight ; the clock pointed 
to four and Margaret sought a little rest. 

When she awoke two or three hours later 
she wondered if she had slept at all, for thought 
took up the question just where she had dropped 
it only a few hours previous. 

“ Must believe that he is.” '‘Must believe'" 

For two weeks the conflict waged. She met 
all her numerous engagements, outwardly calm 
as usual, but she spent all her leisure hours 


OTHER QUESTIONS. 


353 


studying the Bible, until one afternoon she laid 
it down, saying to herself, '' It is of no use for 
me to study more in the face of that ^Must 
believe' ” 

She walked to the window and looked out. 
The bare trees shivered in the December wind ; 
all nature looked dreary. 

Tree and flower will bud and blossom in 
the spring,” she thought ; “ but what will make 
them ?” 

She turned slowly from the window and 
stood motionless for many minutes, then bring- 
ing the whole force of her will to her aid, she 
said aloud, “ I will believe ! 1 do believe that 

there is a God.” 

That was all. There was no change of feel- 
ing, but she acted on that conviction, accepting 
the first part, “ Must believe that he isl' And 
then she began to wonder that she could ever 
have doubted the existence of a Supreme Being. 
Why, everything spoke of him. What power 
kept the great round earth in its place ? Who 
restrained the deep ? Who but God had power 
to say to the tides, Thus far shalt thou go and 
no farther ”? She enjoyed these thoughts, they 
were so new, so strange, and for days she cher- 
ished them, and then began dimly to feel that 
she had admitted a fact but had not changed 
her life. What was the troiJble ? 

23 


354 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


She recalled the days which followed the 
time when Fay told her of her new experience. 
Dear little Fay ! it did not seem as though she 
needed to be any different. But she was ; ever 
after that evening when she threw her arms 
about Margaret’s neck exclaiming, “ Oh, Mar- 
garet! I do love Jesus, and I am so happy,” 
there had been a marked change in her life and 
conduct. 

What caused it ? and again Margaret found 
herself questioning and days of darkness and 
depression followed ; days when there seemed 
nothing worth living for and she longed for 
Fay. “ I could talk with her,” she thought, 
“but there is no one in Leicester to whom I 
feel that I can take my trouble.” The burden 
grew heavier and she saw no way to make it 
lighter. “ But there is a way,” she said to her- 
self, “ and I will find it,” and again she took 
her Bible, but with a different thought from the 
one with which she had studied it before. 

Something was lacking in her life and expe- 
rience, something which others possessed ; some- 
thing of joy and peace, and that not of the kind 
with which her life had been filled heretofore ; 
for Margaret had been happy in a way, and 
had felt no lack until recently, and now she 
realized that the pleasures of this world could 
never fully satisfy her again. 


AFTER MANY DAYS. 


355 


CHAPTER XXI. 

AFTER MANY DA VS. 

For once Margaret found her strong will 
unavailable ; it did not bring her rest. She 
had forced her intellect, but she could not con- 
vince her heart in the same way. In vain she 
argued “ the Bible says if we believe we shall 
be saved.” She felt that she was not saved, and 
the future looked dark and uncertain to her. 
She was glad that the season ” was over, for 
it gave her more time for study and thought, 
and she was beginning to feel that she could 
not much longer endure the strain of appearing 
cheerful when she was shrouded in gloom: of 
meeting the ordinary demands of society when 
the demands of great unknown Eternity were 
claiming her attention. 

Her mother had noticed her abstraction, and 
watched her with solicitude after receiving no 
satisfactory answer to her inquiry as to the 
cause of her trouble. 

Margaret was always reticent upon nearly 
all subjects, and she fully realized that she 
could not expect help or guidance at this time 
from her mother — that she could not in the least 
understand her feelings ; and she was shut up 


356 LUCY broad’s choice. 

to her own resources. Roger sneered a little 
at her new penchant for attending evening- 
meetings, but she paid no heed for she was 
thoroughly in earnest, and moreover she had 
been cynical herself. She recalled her words in 
regard to the girls at the Faith Mission ; but 
what had that to do with her ? she was not at 
all like them. They had spoken of their ex- 
perience well, they needed one, and if it were 
possible that she did it must be of an entirely 
different nature from theirs ; so she dismissed 
that thought. If she were to meet with this 
“ great change ” she presumed that it would 
come to her as it had to Fay and Lucy and 
Dorothy. 

But the thought which troubled her most 
was that the Bible said that if we believed we 
should be saved. Poor Margaret was beginning 
to doubt again. She forgot that she had not 
gone beyond the believing that God is. She 
had not thought of the remainder of the verse 
that, “ He is a re warder of them that diligently 
seek Him.” And then she took up that thought 
of the verse and spent many days studying the 
life and doctrine of Christ. She recalled Sa- 
rah’s words and realized that however pure and 
upright in all respects her life had been, she 
was included in the list of those who were con- 
demned, for she had been an unbeliever and 


AFTER MANY DAYS. 357 

was therefore one of the all who needed for- 
giveness. 

Turning the leaves of her Bible listlesly one 
day, her attention was arrested by the nineteeth 
verse of the second chapter of James. '‘Thou 
believest that there is one God ; thou doest well : 
the devils also believe and tremble." Margaret 
was amazed. If she had ever read those words 
before they had made no impression upon her, 
but now she looked at them with something of 
the feeling of one who had received the annihila- 
tion of all previously cherished hope. 

Were there then two kinds of belief ? Cer- 
tainly there must be, for this was not the kind 
that Faith had. “ Believe and tremble," de- 
scribed her feelings. Then she commenced and 
read the account of the conversion of the jailor, 
of Lydia, of Cornelius, and of The Eunuch. It 
was the same thing in each case, “ Belief on 
the Lord Jesus Christ." Margaret was some- 
what enlightened as to the need, but the way 
was not clear to fill that need ; and continuing to 
cling to the idea that she would not apply to any 
one, but find the solution to the question herself, 
she stumbled on but received no further light. 

The winter had passed, and singing birds 
and springing flowers heralded the approach 
of warm weather ; already her mother was 
wondering where they had better spend the 


358 


LUCY broad's choice. 


summer and planning for dresses and costumes, 
receiving but little assistance from Margaret, 
who had resolved that she would not leave home 
for pleasure until this question was settled, for 
having commenced the search it never occurred 
to her to abandon it. 

So she studied on, sometimes gaining a little 
light and then relapsing into deep darkness, 
until one day she read the parable of the Phari- 
see and the Publican, read it as though she had 
never seen it before, and then reviewed it word 
by word. Was not the Pharisee justified in 
saying what he did ? and had not her life been 
as good as his ? it had been an upright life ; she 
had never condescended to do a mean act : she 
had been liberal and just to all ; surely her 
whole character had been above reproach. But 
that was just the feeling of the Pharisee, and 
God was not pleased with him : and then she 
remembered that the Saviour said that he came 
not to call the righteous, but sinners to re- 
pentance. Was she then a sinner— she, Mar- 
garet Bradleigh? She recalled the old mean- 
ing of the word in the legend of the archer 
who shot at a mark and when one missed it the 
rest cried, “ He is a sinner, he is a sinner,” 
meaning one who had missed the mark. Had 
she missed it? And then there came to her 
mind other words : “ For all have sinned and 


AFTER MANY DAYS. 


359 

come short of the glory of God.’’ In that sense 
she must be included in the all. She certainly 
had come short of the “ glory of God.” Having 
been an unbeliever, all her influence had been 
in the wrong direction. Aye, more ! she had 
positively tried to lead others away from Christ. 
Would she be held responsible if they were 
lost ? Margaret shuddered as she realized that 
all the influence of her life had been in the 
wrong direction, and for the first time in her 
remembrance she felt the need of forgiveness. 
She took up a little book to read her text for 
the day. It was from Matthew 6: 37, “ All that 
the Father giveth me shall come to me ; and 
him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast 
out and below were the following words from 
Andrew Murray: ‘‘A man is not converted 
without first having conviction of sin. When 
that conviction comes and his eyes are opened, 
he learns to be afraid of his sin and flee to 
Christ.” She closed the book, and rising fell 
upon her knees, and with the weight of sin rest- 
ing heavily on her cried in the words of the 
publican, “ God be merciful to me a sinner.” 

The days that followed were no brighter. 
She felt perfectly willing to give up all that she 
possessed if she only might find rest, but no 
rest came and she continued wearily to seek the 
cause. She again reviewed her past life. Surely 


360 LUCY broad’s choice. 

she had committed no great sin — and here she 
paused. Was not that just what the Pharisee 
thought in his pride ? Was it possible that she 
was like him in this ? She recalled her self-sat- 
isfaction, the feeling that she could do as she 
liked regardless of the opinion of any one ; she 
was proud of her good name : of the unsullied 
line of noble ancestry ; of her position ; of — 
and here she paused again. Was it possible that 
pride stood in her way now? and if so how? 
What did the Bible say about it ? She tried to 
recall passages which she had read, but failing 
she took her Bible and Concordance and began 
to study. 

The first she read was first Samuel 2:3; 
“ Talk no more so exceeding proudly ; let not 
arrogancy come out of your mouth : for the 
Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions 
are weighed.” Actions are weighed^ Surely 
hers would be found wanting, for she had no 
thought of pleasing her Heavenly Father, no 
feeling of a need of his guidance in all her 
past life. She turned to Psalm 10:4: ‘‘The 
wicked through the pride of his countenance 
will not seek after God : God is not in all his 
thoughts.” 

She read no more. Was is not pride which 
had made her determined to solve this question 
seeking help from no one ? Margaret was first 


AFTER MANY DAYS. 


361 


astonished at herself, then deeply grieved for 
the past which she realized she could not undo. 
She had not only remained out of the kingdom, 
but had kept others from entering. Could any 
sin be greater than that ? She felt crushed, al- 
most hopeless ; but realizing that it was useless 
to grieve for what she was powerless now to 
prevent, she resolved that her pride should be 
subdued in the future. “ Not by my own 
strength alone,” she thought, “ I can never do 
that and kneeling she sought pardon for the 
past and grace for the day to come. 

And now as a last resort she resolved to seek 
guidance from some one, and astonished her 
mother one morning by telling her that she was 
going to start immediately for Oakhurst for a 
short visit. 

“ Would you not like me to be your escort ?” 
inquired her brother. 

Mrs. Bradleigh smiled, and then looked dis- 
concerted as Margaret replied with a most em- 
phatic negative. 

Lucy heard Margaret through without once 
interrupting or asking her a question. 

“ I have given up everything,” she conclud- 
ed. “ I have done everything that was required 
of me as fast as it has been revealed to me, and 
I do not feel any different ; what shall I do ?” 

“ Dear Margaret,” replied Lucy, seeing at 


362 LUCY broad’s choice. 

once where the trouble lay, “ I fear that you are 
still unbelieving. Not as you were,” she ex- 
plained in answer to Margaret’s start of sur- 
prise, “ but you are not willing to take God at 
his word.” 

“ Why !” exclaimed Margaret. “ I believe 
every word of the Bible.” 

‘‘ Then you believe that your sins are for- 
given, and that God for Christ’s sake has ac- 
cepted you.” 

“ No, I cannot feel that it is so.” 

But that has nothing whatever to do with 
it. The Bible says, ‘ If we confess our sins, he 
is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and 
to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ Then 
of course, you are cleansed and forgiven.” 

“No,” said Margaret again, hesitatingly, 
and with a note of inquiry in her tone. 

“ Then why do you say that you believe ?” 

“ Lucy !” and there were tears in Margaret’s 
voice. 

“ I know you think me harsh,” continued 
Lucy, “ but I assure you that my heart is full of 
tenderness and love for you. I know just how 
difficult it is to walk by faith, but that is what 
you must do : the only thing you can do. When 
you ask your Heavenly Father to forgive you for 
the sake of his dear Son, you must believe that 
he does so whether you feel any different or not. 


AFTER MANY DAYS. 363 

Let me read, you these words of Archbishop 
Usher which were a great help to me. 

‘‘ * It is one thing for a man to have his salva- 
tion certain, another thing to be certain that is 
certain. Even as a man fallen into a river and 
like to be drowned, as he is carried down with 
the flood espies the bough of a tree hanging 
over the river, which he catcheth at and clings 
unto with all his might to save him, and seeing 
no other way of succor but that, ventures his 
life upon it. This man, so soon as he has fas- 
tened on this bough, is in a safe condition, 
though all troubles, fears, and terrors are not 
presently out of his mind until he comes to 
himself and sees himself quite out of danger. 
Then he is sure he is safe, but he was safe be- 
fore he was sure. Even so it is with a believer. 
Faith is but the espying of Christ as the only 
means to save, and the reaching out of the heart 
to lay hold on him !’ ” 

Margaret listened attentively. “This bur- 
den is weighing me down,” was the reply she 
made, “ and the darkness is impenetrable. I 
can do nothing more.” 

“ Do not try,” said Lucy, and then she kissed 
and left her, feeling that there was nothing 
more that she could say, and realizing that Mar- 
garet had only one point to yield and that she 
must see it for herself. 


3^4 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Margaret was glad to be alone, and felt grate- 
ful for the fine instinct which taught Lucy just 
when she had said enough, and then her thoughts 
all centered upon herself. “ How can I ever 
live through another day like this?” she said 
aloud. Then came the thought, “ I will walk 
in darkness all the days of my life if God 
wills it, but I will keep close to my Saviour.” 
She had at last given up the only thing she 
really possessed, her strong will : for all un- 
known to herself she had determined to have the 
light before she trusted — to come in her own 
way ; but with that thought she yielded fully, 
and the effect was magical. Immediately the 
darkness was dispelled. It was like the lifting 
of a cloud after a heavy shower : it seemed as 
though she could feel the weight growing light- 
er and brightness streaming in. She hardly 
dared to move for fear the spell would be broken, 
and when at last she rose to seek Lucy she felt 
as though she were treading on air. 

“ Will it last?” she said, as she concluded the 
story of her joy. 

“Be not faithless, but believing,” replied 
Lucy. “Oh, Margaret! I am so glad. What 
a power you will be for good. And now let us 
never cease to pray for Sarah until she is 
brought back, or rather until she is really in 
every sense of the word one of us.” 


AFTER MANY DAYS. 


365 

‘‘ Never replied Margaret with emphasis. 

“Your visit has evidently been of great 
benefit to you,” said Mrs. Bradleigh the next 
day. “ Why did you not remain longer ?” 

“ The benefit came at once,” replied her 
daughter with a joyous ring in her tone, which 
her mother did not understand at the time, but 
which was made a little clearer to her after a 
while. 

And now Margaret felt that there was one 
thing more for her to do. She read “ That if 
thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord 
Jesus, and shalt believe in thy heart that God 
hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be 
saved.” 

She had not done that, and she dreaded the 
first confession which she felt must be made at 
home. But she was learning where to go for 
help, and resolved that the first time the family 
were alone she would define her position, for 
she was as much in earnest to walk in the right 
way now as she had ever been in scoffing at 
those who had already found it. 


366 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION, 

It seemed as though the fitting opportunity 
would never come. The house was full of com- 
pany the next week, and when they finally 
took their departure her father went to New 
York on business which detained him several 
days; then friends came to see Margaret, and 
there were dinner and tea-parties, drives and 
excursions, and summer had fairly dawned be- 
fore she found the opportunity she sought. Not 
that she was unwilling that others than the 
family should know of her newly-found joy, for 
she felt no hesitancy in making known her new 
position : being convinced of the right she was 
ready to express her ideas to the world, and if 
people wondered at the change it would not 
trouble her. 

Finally one dewy evening early in June 
they were alone once more, and before taking 
her place at the dinner-table she stood with her 
hand resting on the back of her chair, tall and 
graceful, her handsome haughty face softened 
with her new feeling, and told of the new im- 


STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 367 

petus her life had received, of her changed pur- 
pose and intent. 

The trio at the table heard her through with- 
out interruption, though their faces were a study. 
Roger was the first to break the silence which 
followed. He had reasons of his own separate 
from any feeling of pleasure in his sister’s new 
purpose and aspiration, and prompted by these 
feelings he said, “ I am truly glad, Margaret. It 
is certainly more respectable to take such a po- 
sition before the world than to stand aloof as 
we have done, although I claim to have been 
neutral, having never believed nor disbelieved 
in those things.” 

“ But Margaret,” said Mrs. Bradleigh in a 
perplexed tone, “ are you going to give up soci- 
ety altogether?” 

Why, no ! I do not know — I have never 
given it a thought.” 

“ Oh, dear,” sighed her mother, “ how much 
talk it will make !” 

“ Which will not trouble me in the least,” 
and Margaret’s reply showed that the old feel- 
ing of independence still remained. 

“I intend,” she continued with changed 
tone, '' to take the Bible for my guide as far as 
I know how ; and there I am taught not to be a 
stumbling-block in any person’s way; and so 
there is one thing I cannot do: I can never 


368 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


again, if I am aware of it, be present where wine 
is served, as it has already caused one dear friend 
to stumble.” 

Her father frowned, but Margaret, before 
he had time to reply, repeated Sarah’s words 
spoken that November morning; and as she 
recalled them there came into her heart a great 
longing that Sarah might be saved, and she 
resolved that she would bend every energy to 
that purpose. 

The dinner was nearly a silent one after this 
conversation, and Margaret returned to her 
room at its close and poured out her soul in 
earnest prayer for Sarah, and in the forgetting 
of self and longing for another she found the 
first joy in real service. 

There was another confession to be made, a 
public one ; and with her usual promptness and 
decision she took all the preliminary steps, and 
then announced her intention to her parents and 
brother. 

“What church will you join?” inquired the 
latter. 

“ The Grand Street. It is near, and I quite 
agree with its doctrines.” 

Mrs. Bradleigh breathed a sigh of relief. “ I 
am sure that is all right,” she said, “ some of our 
first families attend there.” 

Roger looked at his sister quizzically. 


STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 369 

I had not thought of that,” she replied. “ It 
is near, as I have just remarked, and after hav- 
ing given considerable time to the subject, I 
find that I can subscribe to its rules, doctrines, 
and practise more heartily than to any other.” 

Margaret’s young friends were astonished to 
learn that she was to unite with the church on 
the following Sabbath, for to none of them had 
she confessed the changed purpose of her life, 
and they waited with different degrees of curi- 
osity for the day, which proved to be the perfec- 
tion of a June day. The air was redolent with 
the scent of roses: not a cloud obscured the 
deep blue of the sky, and the chiming bells 
summoning the people to worship sounded out 
musically. 

Grand Street church was crowded, but Mar- 
garet thought nothing of the people who were 
present, but gave her whole attention to the im- 
pressive service, and the words, “that like as 
Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory 
of the Father, even so we also should walk in 
newness of life,” were the index to the life she 
intended to follow, a “ life hid with Christ in 
God.” 

Poor perplexed Mrs. Bradleigh watched from 
day to day, and thought that her daughter grew 
more beautiful with each moment. Her face 
lost something of its hauteur, and the lines of 

24 


370 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


the mouth were sweeter, while her manners 
were the perfection of graceful ease, not affected, 
not studied, but the outcome of gracious feelings 
towards all. 

'‘She has lost nothing in beauty or ease,” 
soliloquised her mother, “ but she is different, I 
wonder how. It is a certain intangible some- 
thing in everything.” 

Margaret fulfilled all her society engage- 
ments which did not conflict with those of the 
church, which latter were always paramount, 
always adhering, however, to her expressed de- 
termination never to be present where wine was 
served, and was glad that she could find a re- 
spite from home pleasures for a few weeks which 
were passed pleasantly in the country, and then 
rejoiced to go home once more that she might 
take up life’s duties in earnest. But once at home 
again the old burden for Sarah returned, and 
thinking it more likely that she would find her 
at the Faith Mission than at any other place, 
she spent many evenings there ; a number of 
fashionable friends of her coterie followed her 
example, and Margaret found by experience that 
Sarah’s words, “ that she could set the fashion,” 
were literally true, a fact which she had never 
doubted. Mrs. Bradleigh began to talk of the 
beneficence of “my daughter Margaret” and 
how much good she did among the impecunious, 


STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 37 1 

and straightway elegant equipages found their 
way to Hanover street, and many a poor home 
was made bright and weary invalids were 
cheered by the gifts of sweet flowers and lus- 
cious fruits. 

But Margaret was not satisfied, for in all 
these weeks she had not seen Sarah. She evi- 
dently avoided the mission ; but Margaret knew 
of no other place in which to seek her, and pa- 
tiently and persistently she attended the meet- 
ings, and waited and earnestly prayed until one 
cool rainy evening Sarah came into the room. 

Her lip curled as she caught sight of Mar- 
garet, and she instinctively gathered her dress 
in her hand as she passed her, as Margaret her- 
self had done on that memorable evening so 
long ago. 

She sat down near the organ, but avoided 
meeting Margaret’s eye. She was evidently 
sober and gave strict attention to the service. 

They were singing, 

“ I Ve found a Friend, Oh, such a Friend ! 

He loved me ere I knew him. 

He drew me with the cords of love, 

And thus he bound me to him,” 

and with the words a new resolve came to Mar- 
garet. As the singing ceased she rose, and in a 
few well chosen words gave the story of her 
conversion, avoiding all names and personalities, 


372 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


and acknowledging that through the sin of unbe- 
lief she needed the same forgiveness and the 
same Saviour as those who had committed sins 
more degrading outwardly in their influence, 
but no more harmful to the best interests of the 
soul. 

A breathless silence followed her words. It 
would have been difficult to have told to whom 
the surprise was greater — her cultured, elegant 
friends, who looked upon Margaret as their par- 
agon in all matters pertaining to fashionable 
society, or the poor, struggling girls, the marks 
of whose neglected and sinful lives were traced 
on their faces, and still showed in their whole 
appearance. 

Sarah listened like one in a dream at first, 
almost doubting the evidence of her senses, and 
then her dark eyes grew deep with tender light 
and her lip trembled. Was it possible that any- 
thing could bring proud, haughty Margaret 
Bradleigh to make such a confession, and in 
public too? to place herself on a level with a 
class of people whom she had always despised ? 

They were singing again, now, 

“ Come, sinner, to the Living One, 

He 's just the same Jesus 
As when he raised the widow’s son. 

The very same Jesus. 


STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 373 

The very same Jesus, 

The wonder working Jesus ; 

Oh, praise his name, he 's just the same. 

The very same Jesus.” 

That was it ! not Margaret Bradleigh, but 
Jesus, if Sarah could only have realized it; but 
unobserved she left the room, the warm, light 
room, filled with the sweet words of a Saviour’s 
love ; left the place of prayer, where at least one 
heart was agonizing for her, and went out into 
the cold and chill of the autumnal night, and 
Margaret returned to her beautiful home, sad 
but not discouraged, for discouragement was not 
a part of her nature. 

The next morning dawned cool, blustering 
and grey as a morning in September sometimes 
can do. Margaret stood by the open window 
looking at the dull leaden sky, so absorbed in 
her thoughts that she did not notice the tinkle 
of the bell nor the opening and closing again of 
the outside door, and started as footsteps crossed 
the room and paused at her side. 

“ Oh, Sarah !” ’ she exclaimed, holding out 
both hands, while tears filled her eyes, “ you do 
not know how glad I am to see you and then 
both were silent with feelings too deep for utter- 
ance. 

Standing there and holding Sarah’s hands in 
her own, Margaret noticed that her dress though 


374 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


perfectly neat was one that she had worn several 
years before, and that her abundant glossy hair 
was as carefully and becomingly arranged as 
when she had attracted attention at parties and 
receptions by her good looks and genial man- 
ners ; but how changed was her appearance 
now ! Her cheeks were pale and her large dark 
eyes full of pathetic pleading as she looked into 
Margaret’s face, and then with trembling lips 
said, “ Oh, Margaret ! wont you help me ?” 

“ By every means in my power,” was the 
hearty reply. 

“ I would not have asked you before,” con- 
tinued Sarah. “ I meant all that I said that 
morning that I came here, and never thought 
that I should have reason to change my mind, 
for I knew the firmness of your will ; and it 
seemed for a moment, last evening, that I must 
be dreaming, when I saw you, the stately, beau- 
tiful Margaret Bradleigh, rise in that mission, 
and putting aside all haughtiness and pride place 
yourself on a level with the most sinful person 
there, I said, ‘ Something has changed Marga- 
ret,’ and I longed for the same power to come 
into my life and transform me ; it seemed to me 
that if anything was potent enough to so soften 
and redeem your nature, the same strength im- 
parted to me might help me to make my life 
what it ought to be.” 


STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 375 

‘‘ It will, indeed,” replied Margaret, and Sa- 
rah noticed the tenderness in her tone which 
had usually been so cold and measured. 

Wait,” she said, “ you do not know. I left 
my home because my parents would allow no 
wine there. They did just right. I only wish 
that they had locked me in my room, even if I 
had resented it at the time. I took a false name 
and found a place on the outskirts of the city as 
governess, and had my wine in my own room, 
and for several weeks, by a strong effort, regu- 
lated the amount so that it did not interfere with 
my duties ; but one day I took too much, and 
you know the result of course, I lost my place. 
I soon obtained another but with like results. 
Then I hired a pleasant room and took in fine 
sewing and fancy work, but oftentimes I was 
unable to fulfil my engagements, and soon all 
my customers withdrew their patronage. 

“ Then I took a cheaper room and pawned 
my watch and my jewels, taking poorer and 
less expensive rooms as my little hoard di- 
minished, until last week I was forced to 
take a miserable room under the eaves in an 
attic. 

“ Yesterday morning my last penny was 
spent, and I knew not where I could obtain an- 
other. I wandered round the streets and parks 
all day, and last evening went into the Faith 


376 LUCY broad’s choice. 

Mission in sheer desperation, simply because I 
felt that there was no other place for me to go 
to, for I would not return to my home as I was 
then.” 

“ Simply ! Oh, Sarah, I have waited and 
watched for this for weeks. I have prayed for 
you with longing unutterable.” 

Oh, Margaret, it sounds strangely to hear 
such words from you,” and Sarah paused while 
the tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Why did you not wait and speak to me?” 
inquired Margaret. 

‘‘ Why ? Oh, I do not know. I went out 
into the chill and darkness with a heart full of 
bitterness. Why should you have everything 
and I nothing, I thought. Why should you even 
become a Christian and be lovely and loved, 
while I was an outcast ? I wandered ^up and 
down the streets hungry and discouraged, for I 
had eaten nothing all day, and my thoughts grew 
more and more bitter. I must go on and on, 
knowing that no drunkard can inherit the king- 
dom of heaven, and feeling that nothing could 
save me. 

I passed several stands where a penny 
would buy a plate of beans, and another a cup of 
coffee and I, Sarah Bennett, could purchase nei- 
ther. I thought of the prodigal son in the para- 
ble, and then a voice seemed to say to me, ‘ why 


STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 377 

do you not go home to your father’s house ?’ 
But I was too wretched to think of it, and then 
other words repeated themselves over and over 
in my mind, ‘ Able to save to the uttermost,’ I 
was not farther off than the ' uttermost,’ and I 
paused on a street corner, and said, ^ Oh, God ! I 
am houseless and hungry. I have sinned, and I 
long to do better. I hate myself and my life. 
If thou canst help me to overcome this fatal ap- 
petite, send me as a token the means to appease 
my hunger.’ 

“ A gust of cold wind swept past me envelop- 
ing me in dust. When it had subsided I saw at 
my feet a tiny scrap of red paper. I hardly 
know why, but I stooped and picked it up, 
and, oh, Margaret ! what do you suppose it 
was ?” 

Margaret shook her head. Her heart was 
too full for words. 

It was an unused two-cent postage-stamp !” 

“How good God is !” exclaimed Margaret. 
“ Was it not doubtless the direct answer to your 
prayer ?” 

“ I do not know,” replied Sarah, wearily. “ I 
have tried, and struggled, and prayed, for I hate 
the curse which has brought me to this, and I 
hate myself for yielding ; but, oh, Margaret ! I 
cannot help it. I went to the stand and bought 
the food, and then went to my father’s barn 


378 LUCY broad’s choice. 

and slept on the hay. See what sin will bring 
one to !” 

Margaret was sobbing audibly, and Sarah 
looked at her in surprise, for in all the years that 
she had known her she had never seen her 
show emotion like that. 

“ And you have had no breakfast,” she said as 
soon as she could command her voice ; “ come,” 
and she led the way to her own room, and ring- 
ing the bell gave an order in a low tone to the 
sable servant who answered it, and in a few 
moments a silver tray containing a dainty break- 
fast was placed before Sarah. 

“ And now you must go to your own home,” 
said Margaret, as the tray was pushed aside. 
“ Your parents are longing for you.” 

“ I do not see how they can,” replied Sarah ; 
grief and weariness showing through her tones. 
“ I have disgraced their name, and I shall again 
unless some unknown power intervenes.” 

Tenderly and lovingly Margaret pointed her 
to the grace that is sufficient, and Sarah went to 
her home, and then there commenced a fierce 
battle between her desire to do right and the 
fatal appetite which was her heritage. There 
were days when she begged her mother to lock 
her in her room and on no account to allow her 
to leave it. 

The struggle continued for weeks, until 


STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 379 

one bright day in October, utterly wearied and 
exhausted, she threw herself upon her knees, 
exclaiming, “Oh, God, if there is anything in 
me worth saving, save me now ! I can do no 
more. I can do nothing. I place myself in thy 
care and keeping for evermore !” And the ten- 
der, loving Father, whose ears are always open 
to the cry of distress, heard her ; the answer 
was given in complete victory, and the fearful 
craving was removed. 

“ Have you heard the news?” exclaimed one 
fashionable young lady to another. 

“ No ! what is it ?” 

“ Sarah Bennett is converted, and has given 
up drinking entirely, even light wines ; she has 
joined the church, and is living at home once 
more.” 

“ Time, I should think. Of course, she has 
lost her place in good society.” 

“ I am not so sure of that. Margaret Brad- 
leigh not only recognizes her, but continues as 
her intimate friend.” 

“ Is that so ? ‘ Birds of a feather,’ etc. I 
mean in regard to their being converted, though 
Sarah stood high. But, of course, if she is Mar- 
garet’s friend, that alters the phase of affairs. 
We must take her up again.” 

But Sarah refused to be “taken up.” She 


380 LUCY broad’s choice. 

declined absolutely to enter society again. “ I 
have wasted too much time already,” she said. 
“ ‘ Life is real ; life is earnest ’ to me. I cannot 
undo the past, but I will make what amends I 
can for it by improving what time is left me. 
‘ There are lonely hearts to cherish while the 
days are going by hearts which perhaps I can 
cheer, lives which I may be able to help, steps 
which I may be instrumental in guiding into 
the right way once more.” 

She went to the Faith Mission every even- 
ing, and many an erring one was reclaimed and 
helped by her, and many were led to trust for 
strength where she had found it. In helping 
others she was helped herself, and she worked 
on unweariedly, seeking no higher happiness 
than to save others from what she herself had 
suffered. 


ONE OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 


381 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

ONE OCTOBER AFTERNOON, 

Lucy came through the hall, and crossing 
the veranda paused at the head of the steps, 
resting one hand lightly on the rail. Summer 
seemed contending with late autumn for the 
supremacy, and but for the crimson, gold, and 
olive hues of the maple-trees it would have 
seemed that the former was in the ascendancy, 
for the air was soft and balmy as in June, mak- 
ing one of those rare days we sometimes see 
late in the autumn. 

Lucy held in her other hand a letter ; but 
she evidently was not thinking of that nor of 
the beautiful landscape spread out before her, 
although she seemed to be looking at the far- 
away tree-covered hills, whose bright hues were 
softened by the distance ; her artistic taste and 
love for the beautiful were gratified, although 
she was not aware that she gave even a passing 
thought to them. She stood quietly for a few 
moments and then went down the steps, and 
crossing the edge of the lawn entered the gar- 
den. 

Many-hued, graceful asters nodded as though 
to welcome her. Great purple pansies, flecked 


382 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


with yellow and bronze, lifted their faces to 
her ; nastertiums, grading from the deepest scar- 
let to pale yellow, peeped from beneath their 
round green leaves, and lavender and white he- 
liotrope filled the air with fragrance ; but all in 
vain ; she gave no heed to any of them, but 
walking the length of the garden entered the 
orchard, which she crossed to a rustic-seat under 
the branches of a gnarled apple-tree. 

Lucy was very quiet ; the whole scene with 
all its surroundings was in harmony with her 
feelings, and a sweet peace stole into her heart, 
which for days had been filled with conflicting 
thoughts, not that she was now fully convinced, 
but fully willing to be, for she had come there, 
that golden October afternoon, to settle the 
question proposed to her nearly a year ago on 
that bright Thanksgiving evening. 

She had thought it settled many times, but 
now a decided answer must be given. She hesi- 
tated, for there was a great deal in her nature 
which responded to that which was offered to 
her. She knew that as the wife of Roger Brad- 
leigh she would shine in the world of fashion ; 
and Lucy was fond of rank and position and 
power. She knew that great wealth would be 
added to that which she already possessed ; that 
the most stately and beautiful residence in Lei- 
cester would be hers ; that she would be referred 


ONE OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 383 

to and her opinions accepted with deference; 
that her wishes would be consulted on all mo- 
mentous occasions of fashion and society. 

Well, were they not now? Certainly, in a 
great degree ; but Lucy Bradleigh’s influence 
would exceed Lucy Broad’s in many ways. 
Then why did she hesitate ? 

The first question for her to settle was wheth- 
er the one who offered her the position met all 
her ideas of a life companion. Why did he not ? 
What more could she desire than he possessed ? 
He was handsome, manly, courteous, and gen- 
tlemanly, refined, highly educated and cultured ; 
from one of the oldest and best families. Some 
one had said that there were four requisites re- 
quired to enter good society : “ blood, breeding, 
brains, and bullion either would admit the 
owner, but Roger Bradleigh possessed them all ; 
what more could she ask ? He was devoted to 
her, or would have been had she allowed it, and 
she knew that she was envied by at least a score 
of young ladies. Was that desirable? 

Now Lucy was human, and fond, in an unos- 
tentatious way, of notice and deference ; and 
yet she possessed an innate nobility which would 
neither accept nor submit to patronage or flat- 
tery from any one, and she never deigned to 
bestow either. People won their way to her 
esteem and affection solely on their merits. She 


384 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


would make a friend of Miss Curtis, no mat- 
ter who frowned, simply because she needed a 
friend, and because, beneath all her crudeness 
and illiteracy, she possessed undaunted courage 
to stand staunchly by her convictions of duty. 
And had not her friendship given prestige to 
Miss Curtis? Could she not use her influence 
in behalf of many such if she decided in the 
affirmative ? 

But her thoughts were digressing. It was 
the merits of Roger Bradleigh she was trying 
to consider ; and just here there came to her 
mind a question she had read many times, “ Can 
two walk together unless they be agreed ?” In 
what did she disagree with him ? She was not 
quite ready to look at the negative side, so she 
enumerated in her mind all the points of argu- 
ment. His erudition, love of books, artistic taste 
and refinement, and even his reserve were con- 
genial to her, for there was an answering chord 
in her own nature which responded to them all ; 
and having dwelt upon these facts she brought 
her thoughts resolutely to the point. Roger 
Bradleigh was not a Christian. 

Well, what of that? Had he not told her 
many times that she should make him what she 
would? She clung to that thought for many 
minutes. But no ; if in all these months, when 
he was so desirous to please her, when the new. 


ONE OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 385 

sweet influence of Margaret had proved una- 
vailing, he had not accepted the Saviour, she 
could not hope that any words of hers in the 
time to come would cause him to change his 
opinion. 

Not that he was a scoffer. He attended 
church regularly with his sister, and was decor- 
ous and respectful, paying strict outward atten- 
tion to all the service ; but what did it avail 
when the Saviour had said, “ Follow me,” and 
that meant fully, completely, and in all things. 

Then, was she willing to devote her life to 
society and fashion? Need she, even in the 
position in which Roger would place her ? Mar- 
garet did not ; she was working and doing un- 
told good; but Margaret had only herself to 
please, and Lucy knew what would be expected 
of her, and realized that the old question which 
she had discussed with Dorothy, at school and 
during the quiet weeks spent with her in her 
own home, must be decided with the other. 

The brown eyes looked very wistful, for if 
her answer were in the negative, she was giving 
up much, very much which she prized. She 
changed her position a little, and the letter, 
which she still held in her hand, rustled, and 
brought her thoughts to it. It was folded and 
enclosed in the envelop, but she could seem to 
see the words which it contained — words which 

25 


386 LUCY broad’s choice. 

Dorothy had penned in the silence of her own 
room. 

“ Do you remember,” they read, the first 
missionary meeting I coaxed you to attend and 
the Scripture verses we repeated? I had not 
thought what mine would be, but it came from 
the earnest longing of my heart with the force 
of a prayer, and now that prayer is about to be 
answered. I have been accepted by the Foreign 
Missionary Society, and am to sail for China in 
the spring. 

“ Are n’t you glad for me ? and do you re- 
member the verse which you repeated ? ‘ Open 

thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous 
things out of thy law !’ Have your eyes been 
opened ? Has God shown you the path in which 
he wishes you to walk, and are you ready ? Does 
your heart respond with a glad, ‘ Yes, Lord ’ ? ” 

Why had this letter reached her just at this 
time ? Did she remember that meeting ? She 
had never forgotten it, and occasionally with 
the memory of it there came to her mind a 
vague thought which sometimes surrounded her 
like the blue haze of the atmosphere at the pres- 
ent time. It was a most unwelcome thought at 
this time. What had it to do with the present 
question, any way ? 

But it would cling to her tenaciously ; and 
then there came to her mind Sarah’s question 


AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 


387 


to Amy ; “ What good have you ever done ?” 
and the rustling leaves seemed to whisper those 
sweet words which she had sung so many times, 

‘ I gave, I gave my life for thee, 

What hast thou done for me ?” 

“ Nothing,” she said to herself with a sigh, 
“ and yet I have tried in various ways to serve, 
but in view of the great sacrifice made for me, 
I have given nothing. What am I expected to 
give?” and the whispering leaves seemed again 
to reply, 

“ My Father’s house of light, 

My glory-circled throne 
I left, for earthly night, 

F or wanderings sad and lone ; 

I left, I left it all for thee, 

Hast thou left aught for me ?” 

Did that mean that she was literally to leave 
her home, and if so, where should she go? 
Were there veritable voices in the air ? It cer- 
tainly seemed as though a sweet tone repeated 
the words, “ Go ye into all the world, and preach 
the gospel to every creature.” They could not 
apply to every one ; why did they come to her 
just then, when she was trying to decide an 
important question which would influence all 
her life ? 

And then she realized that they had been 


388 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


sounding in her mind for years, dimly indeed, 
but still really. Perhaps if she had listened 
the thought would not have been so vague. 
Did she really wish to have no wish of her 
own ? Could she say, “ Where he leadeth, I 
will follow?” Just then there came to her the 
memory of a little incident she had read only a 
few days ago of a vessel wrecked off the coast 
of Ireland, within sight of land. Soon a crowd 
gathered on the beach and a boat was manned 
with brave men, and went to the rescue of those 
on the sinking ship. The crowd on the shore 
waited and watched through the blinding mist, 
until after a time they saw the boat returning. 
They called with eager excited voices, “ Did 
you get them all ? did you save them ?” And 
above the roar of the breakers came the answer, 
^‘Yes! all but one, and we cannot save him 
without running too great a risk to ourselves.” 

Forth from the crowd stepped a tall, stalwart 
young man and called for volunteers to go with 
him to rescue the one who was left. And his 
mother, throwing her arms around him, cried, 
“ Don’t go! You know that your father was 
lost at sea, and your brother William sailed 
away and has never been heard from.” 

But he put her gently aside, and once more 
the boat started for the fast-sinking ship ; and 
the crowd on the shore waited and watched as 


AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 389 

before. When the suspense of the eager crowd 
seemed unbearable, the tiny boat was seen re- 
turning, and as before, the people shouted, 
“ Did you get him ? did you save him ?” And 
above the discord of the elements came the an- 
swer, loud and clear, “Yes! and tell mother it 
is brother William.” 

Why did this little incident come to her 
mind just now ? “ My brother William is safe 
at home,” she thought, “ and what has it to do 
with my being or not being a missionary !” 

The moments had passed quickly by as she 
thus communed with herself, and as she looked 
towards the west she saw that the sun was sink- 
ing behind the distant hills, and only a rim of 
golden light was visible ; but as he disappeared 
he drew around him a mantle of crimson clouds 
whose brightness was softened by the blue haze. 
Lucy never forgot the splendor of that sunset. 
Slowly she turned from it and looked in the 
opposite direction. The twilight shadows were 
creeping over the landscape, and the haze was 
melting before the gray of evening; and as 
Lucy gazed she seemed to see dusky hands 
stretching from the dimness and pitiful voices 
seemed to cry, “We are perishing and no one 
will help us ; we are going down, down, won’t 
you save us?” Once more she seemed to see 
the brave young man who, in risking his life 


390 


LUCY BROAD^S CHOICE. 


for a stranger, rescued his own brother from 
sure and speedy death. 

Her own brother was safe, but somebody’s 
brother and somebody’s sister were dying. Could 
she help them ? 

And then she thought of the time when she 
must stand by the dark river, when she must 
cross it alone. Would it not be joy untold if, 
when she reached the other shore and entered 
through the pearly gates into the celestial city, 
some dark-eyed woman should greet her there 
and say, “ But for you I should not be here. 
You left your beautiful home and all your loved 
ones, and taking your life in your hands brought 
the gospel to me : and lo, I am to be a star in 
your crown of rejoicing for ever.” 

Lucy bowed her head, realizing, as never be- 
fore, something of the value of a human soul, 
and from her heart rose the prayer, “ Dear Lord, 
make me worthy to bear thy message to those 
for whom thou hast died, who have never heard 
it, for where thou leadest I will follow.” And 
she recalled words which she had read only that 
day. 


“ What will it matter by-and-by, 

Whether my path below was bright, 
Whether it wound through dark or light, 
Under a gray or golden sky. 

When I look back on it, by-and-by ? 


AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 


391 


“ It will matter, by-and-by, 

Nothing but this : that joy or pain 
Lifted you skyward, helped to gain. 

Whether through rack, or smile, or sigh, 

Heaven — home — all in all, by-and-by.” 

She rose and recrossed the orchard, her heart 
filled with a strange, sweet peace and overflow- 
ing joy. Was it a new world ? Lucy thought 
she had never seen it so beautiful before. She 
seemed to be surrounded by hallowed influ- 
ences ; certainly the world was new to her that 
evening. 

She went through the hall to the library. 
Her father sat by the study table reading the 
evening paper. He looked up as she entered, 
and something in her face caused him to rise 
and hold out both hands to her. 

She came close to him saying, 

“ I have decided, papa.” 

He waited, questioning her with his eyes. 

“ I can never accept what Roger Bradleigh 
offers me.” 

The clasp on her hand became more firm as 
her father replied, 

‘‘I am so glad, my daughter. It is no place 
for you.” 

There was a moment's hesitation while Mr. 
Broad waited, dreading, he knew not what ; but 
he instinctively felt that there was more rea- 


392 LUCY broad’s choice. 

son for her refusal than appeared on the sur- 
face. 

“ Papa,” she continued, ‘‘ I have also reached 
another decision. I think my Master wishes 
me to go with Dorothy. I have heard his voice 
this evening as never before, and I have re- 
sponded with a glad, * Yes.’ Can you spare 
me?” 

The color forsook her father’s face and the 
light faded from his eyes. A cold atmosphere 
seemed to envelop him and creep into his heart. 
Could he spare her, his beautiful, talented 
daughter ? Was he called to make such a sac- 
rifice ? 

The brown eyes looked beseechingly into 
his, and still the question echoed through his 
mind, “ Could he give her up?” 

Is not this a sudden decision ?” he forced 
his lips to utter. 

“ The final decision may be sudden, yes, I 
think it is. I hardly realized until within the 
last few hours that I had such a thought, but I 
find that all through the past years the question 
has been with me, vaguely indeed, but it could 
not take a prominent place in my thoughts be- 
cause I would not listen to it ; but now it has 
assumed a definite form, and I am sure that the 
impulse is from above. I was very unwilling, 
at first, for I did wish to occupy the position of 


AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 393 

honor offered to me. You know that I am nat- 
urally fond of praise, of power, of rank and 
position, and it has cost me a struggle to over- 
come these feelings and desires. But I believe 
that they are fully renounced ; not by my own 
strength or will. The power was given to me 
from above, and now my peace is like a river.” 

Her father, looking into the sweet face, could 
not doubt it, and did not refuse her request. So 
he put aside the future : he would not think of 
the coming days when he would miss her so 
much — when he would long, with longing un- 
utterable, for the sound of her voice, for the 
healthful, hearty presence — that time could wait. 
And if, as she thought, and he did not doubt, 
the Master wished and needed her, should he 
dare say nay ? and to his mind there came these 
words uttered so long ago, “ He that loveth fa- 
ther or mother more than me, is not worthy of 
me ; and he that loveth son or daughter more 
than me, is not worthy of me.” 

The privation would not all be on one side ; 
and would not the dear Lord accept his sacri- 
fice, in the giving of his daughter ? 

“ Go, my child,” he said with lips that trem- 
bled, indeed, but with steady purpose of heart, 
'‘and may the Lord give you many souls for 
your hire.” 

Then they stood silently, while the clock on 


394 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


the mantel softly ticked the moments away, les- 
sening the time, second by second, Mr. Broad 
thought, when he could have his daughter with 
him, for he knew that having decided she would 
not be long in performing her duty. 

They stood until the dinner-bell sounded 
through the house, and Hazel’s voice was heard 
exclaiming, Where ’s Lucy ? Seems to me she 
is n’t round much these times.” 

The others were seated when they took their 
places at the table, and something in Lucy’s face 
caused them to look at her, and even her little 
sister, with her spoon in her hand which she 
was about to dip unceremoniously into her 
dish of jelly, turned her head, with spoon sus- 
pended, and looked at her with wide-open eyes, 
for once seeming to find no words to express 
her feelings. 

Lucy took the little chubby hands in her 
own, and held them while her father asked the 
customary blessing. 

“ She grows more handsome every day,” 
thought Mrs. Broad. “ If I could only see her 
well settled for life, how thankful I should be.” 

Lucy met her brother’s look of understand- 
ing sympathy with a smile, and the meal pro- 
ceeded outwardly much the same as usual. But 
how changed to the two who sat there and 
thought of the time, when one place would be 


AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON. 395 

vacant, when the wide sea would roll between 
them. But the same loving Father would watch 
over them, and there was all eternity to spend 
together ; they could put aside their own prefer- 
ences if only the Master’s kingdom were ad- 
vanced, and lost ones pointed to eternal life. 


396 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

INTERVENING DAYS. 

Oakhurst was amazed and could hardly 
credit the report that Lucy Broad was to leave 
her beautiful home and go as a missionary to 
China. 

Miss Curtis was seen hurrying down the 
street in the same direction and very much in 
the same manner as on that eventful June 
morning when we first made her acquaintance. 
Much the same, and yet changed. These inter- 
vening years since Lucy had been her friend 
had brought to her a gentle refining influence 
which showed itself in various little ways. Her 
stiff gingham dress was replaced by a soft gray 
woollen, severely plain in its make, but conform- 
ing otherwise to the then present fashion. Her 
hair was not twisted quite so tightly beneath 
the dark straw bonnet, and the hand which held 
her dress carefully aside from the grass in the 
lane, was covered by a neat-fitting glove. 

She paused a moment on the broad flat stone, 
glancing in at the window to make sure that her 
friend was at home, and then, knocking, she 
pushed open the door and entered. 


INTERVENING DAYS. 


397 


Miss Pray sat in her low rocker beside her 
freshly scoured table, busily engaged in looking 
over a bag of pieces. 

Miss Curtis drew the chintz-covered chair 
opposite her friend, and sank into it with the 
first words we heard her speak, Have you 
heard the news ?” 

“About Lucy? Yes: and I think it is 
lovely.” 

“Who said it wasn’t?” exclaimed Miss Cur- 
tis, belligerently. “ Lovely for us, I suppose !” 

“ I was not thinking of that,” replied Miss 
Pray, slowly. “ I was thinking how beautiful it 
was in Lucy to be willing to leave her father 
and brother and little sister and all her 
friends—” 

“ Beautiful for her friends !” interrupted Miss 
Curtis. “ I suppose you are glad to have her 

go-” 

“ No,” and the gentle voice trembled ; “ per- 
sonally I am very unwilling. But if she has 
been such a help to me what will she not do for 
those poor perishing creatures the other side of 
the water ?” 

“ If she ’s helped you, what do you suppose 
she ’s been to me ? But for her I should have 
been nothing and nobody, and I ai n’t any too 
much now.” 

Miss Pray looked up sympathizingly. 


398 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


‘‘I am sorry for you,” she said; “sorry for 
her folks, the church, and Oakhurst ; and, oh, I 
shall miss her so,” and the tears which had 
gathered in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. 

Miss Curtis looked at her over her glasses for 
a moment, and then, pulling them off, leaned 
back in her chair, and covering her face with her 
handkerchief sobbed aloud. 

This was a new experience to the little wo- 
man before her, for in all the years of their ac- 
quaintance she had never seen Miss Curtis give 
way to her feelings like this. She moved her 
chair nearer, and laid her hand on the gloved 
one which rested in the owner’s lap. 

“ Do n’t,” she said gently. 

“ Do n’t yourself,” replied Miss Curtis, with 
a little hysterical laugh ; and then, straightening 
herself up she threw off the little hand, ex- 
claiming, “No, I won’t! I am an old heathen 
myself, and I am glad she is going. She is too 
good to stay here, and too good to go there. In 
fact, she is too good for anything,” and Miss 
Curtis winked hard to keep back the tears, and 
rubbing her glasses vigorously, replaced them, 
and as though dismissing the subject entirely 
from her mind, said, “What are you going to 
do with those pieces?” 

“ I thought I would put them together and 
make a quilt for Lucy.” 


INTERVENING DAYS. 


399 


Miss Curtis looked at her friend through her 
glasses this time, but without seeing anything 
distinctly. 

What an old selfish creature you are, 
Amanda Curtis,” she said, apparently to herself. 
“ Here you pretend to feel bad because Lucy 
Broad is going to carry the gospel to perishing 
souls, and you ’re too much bound up in your 
own disappointment at losing her to think of 
doing one nice thing for her ; and here ’s Sa- 
brina, thinking nothing of herself, as usual, but 
doing all she can, in her humble way, to please 
others.” 

After which personal reprimand, she ad- 
dressed Miss Pray, saying, “ That ’s just like you, 
Sabrina ; and I ’ll go home and look my pieces 
over and give them all to you ; and I ’ll help 
you put it in the frame when it ’s ready, and 
come and quilt with you.” 

Miss Pray thanked her, and both women 
would have considered themselves more than 
paid for all their work, if in after years they 
could have looked upon Lucy in her distant 
home, and seen the loving looks with which 
she regarded the tiny squares of calico and 
gingham, and recalled the occasions when she 
had seen her friends wear the dresses repre- 
sented there. 

Of course the sewing circle discussed the 


400 LUCY broad’s choice. 

subject the first time they met after the news 
became general. 

I do think it is strange,” said Mrs. Perkins, 
“ that Lucy Broad, with all her beauty, wealth, 
and fine education, should be willing to cross 
the ocean and wait upon those disagreeable 
Chinese.” 

Do n’t you suppose that the Lord wants 
beauty and wealth and education?” inquired 
Miss Curtis, who would not listen to a word 
which even seemed to call in question the wis- 
dom of her favorite’s motives, or do you sup- 
pose that only homely, poor and uneducated 
folks like me should offer ourselves for his 
work ?” 

Mrs. Perkins’ only reply was a stare. 

“ For my part,” said Mrs. French, I think 
there is enough to do right here at home. Why, 
there are hungry and destitute people within a 
mile of us.” 

“You don’t suppose that Lucy Broad is go- 
ing to carry old clothes and cold victuals to the 
heathen, do you?” 

Miss Curtis seemed to be in a particularly ag- 
gressive mood. The fact was that her heart was 
sore at the thought of losing her best friend, and 
she had heard the question of foreign missions 
discussed until she was tired of it. Her own 
thoughts on the subject, though crudely ex- 


INTERVENING DAYS. 40I 

pressed, came nearer the truth than most people 
gave her credit for or cared to hear. 

“ But I thought,” exclaimed a bewildered 
voice, “that we were told to minister to the 
wants of the poor, and that if we even gave a 
cup of cold water to the thirsty we should be 
rewarded.” 

“Well, I haven’t said you shouldn’t help 
the poor, have I ? and as for the reward for the 
cup of cold water, it depends on how you give 
it whether you have any reward. The verse 
says, ^ And whosoever shall give to drink unto 
one of these little ones a cup of cold water only 
in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he 
shall in no wise lose his reward.’ ” 

“ But you said Miss Broad was not going to 
do these things.” 

“No, I didn’t!” Poor Miss Curtis was 
guilty of contradicting outright. “ I know that 
Lucy Broad would feed a hungry person or 
clothe a destitute one whether she found them 
in Oakhurst or Kamschatka; but that is not 
what she is going to China for, all the same.” 

“Well, I am glad that my daughter is not 
going,” came complacently from the opposite 
side of the room. 

“So be the heathen, no doubt,” said Miss 
Curtis, in an undertone ; and the three or four 
ladies who heard her and who knew the 
26 


402 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

daughter, bit their lips to repress a smile, while 
they quite agreed with the remark. 

“ But,” continued the perplexed voice, “won’t 
you tell me what she is going for ?” 

“ Why, to feed those who are starving for 
the bread of life, and longing to be clothed with 
the robe of righteousness.” 

The questioner did not look enlightened, but 
Miss Curtis closed her lips and sewed rapidly. 

“ I think,” said Mrs. Perley, in her quiet, 
gentle tone, that a great deal of the misappre- 
hension relating to foreign mission work arises 
from the fact that people do not distinguish 
between temporal charity and the higher pur- 
pose of mission work ; for I quite agree with 
Miss Curtis that there is a vast difference be- 
tween the two, and I think that if the distinc- 
tion could be made plain we should not so often 
hear the remark, ‘ I think there is enough to do 
right here at home.’ ” 

“Won’t you please explain the difference?” 
said Mrs. French, and the perplexed faces of 
several of the ladies reiterated the request. 

Miss Curtis had watched Mrs. Perley’s sweet 
face while she had been speaking, and had been 
saying to herself, “ There, Amanda Curtis, you 
cantankerous old maid, do you hear that ? Why 
could n’t you speak as gently and be as nice as 
she is, and be as careful of your words ? You 


INTERVENING DAYS. 


403 


know better than to use such wretched gram- 
mar ? it ’s only habit and don’t do credit to your 
acquaintance with Lucy Broad,” and before Mrs. 
Perley could reply, she said, Wait just a min- 
ute ! I ’ve been cross and I have spoken cross, 
but it is because I feel so bad. I ’m heartily 
sorry and I hope you ’ll forgive me. Now, Mrs. 
Perley.” 

Some of the ladies smiled, but she received 
many loving glances, and there were tears in 
Mrs. Perley’s eyes as she said, “ I am sure that 
we all sympathize with dear Miss Curtis, for we 
know how much Lucy has been to her ; and I 
am also sure that we all agree with her in her 
idea of Lucy’s work, which is to fulfil the last 
command given by our Saviour, ‘ Go ye into all 
the world, and preach the gospel to every crea- 
ture.* There is a great difference between the 
doing of this, the feeding of the souls of those 
who are perishing, and the obeying of the other 
injunction of our Lord to care for the temporal 
needs of those about us. Both are important. 
‘ These ought ye to have done, and not to leave 
the other undone.’ So, do not let us think when 
we have given food and clothing to those at our 
own door who need them, that we are exempted 
from preaching the gospel to the perishing on 
the other side of the globe.” 

“ I am glad that this has been explained so 


404 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


clearly,” said Mrs. Clarke, for I have felt the 
need of it for a long time. Even the dictionary 
makes a distinction between the two words. 
And now if there are destitute ones near us, let 
us minister to their needs and thus fulfil the law 
of charity or love, but let us not think that our 
duty ends there, for the command contained in 
the last great commission of our Saviour is just 
as incumbent upon us.” 

“ But,” exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, “ it is not 
possible for every one to obey it. Some are not 
fit, and some have family duties which plainly 
bind them at home.” 

“ Very true ;” and Mrs. Clarke chose her 
words with care, “but all Christians should be 
so filled with the Holy Spirit that they can 
preach the word to all around them, not only 
in word but in deed ; and if duties unmistak- 
ably keep us at home, we can certainly try to 
save those around us and give of our means to 
send a substitute to others.” 

A little silence follov/ed these words; the 
ideas advanced were evidently new to some of 
the ladies, and thoughtful faces told that they 
were pondering them. Then some one said, 
“ Which command should we be obeying if we 
should make and donate Lucy’s outfit for her?” 

The exclamations to this query were varied. 
“ The idea !” “ She would feel insulted !” “Be 


INTERVENING DAYS. 


405 


like carrying coals to Newcastle !” were some of 
the words which could be distinguished from 
the medley of sounds. Then silence succeeded, 
and the ladies looked at each other until Mrs. 
Perkins said, “ Why, Lucy Broad has every- 
thing now.’' 

Her father is going to pay all her expenses 
himself, and it won’t cost the Board any- 
thing,” supplemented Miss Curtis triumphant- 
ly, regardless of Miss Fray’s quiet pull upon her 
dress. 

“ How very kind of Mr. Broad,” said Mrs. 
Perley but I do not like the idea that because 
a person has all that wealth can bring to her, 
she will not appreciate a kind act.” 

I am sure that Lucy would be delighted to 
have the ladies remember her so,” added Miss 
Pray, her tone indicating her desire that it 
might be so. 

I am positive that she would.” Mrs. Per- 
ley ’s voice expressed great confidence. I do 
not like to hear people say of any one, ‘ Oh, she 
is well off, and does not need anything.’ We 
all need kind words and deeds prompted by 
love. The wealthy are as tender-hearted and 
appreciative as those who are less favored with 
an abundance of this world’s goods. I prize 
very highly many gifts which I have received, 
for I know that the donors gave because they 


4o6 LUCY broad’s choice. 

felt kindly towards me and did not stop to say, 
‘ Oh, she can buy all those things for herself !’ 
Let us be just as thoughtful for those who have 
abundant means as for those who have noth- 
ing — in a different way, of course, remembering 
that hungry hearts beat beneath silk as well as 
calico.” 

This was another new thought. 

How much we are learning,” said Miss Cur- 
tis. “ I move that we supply Lucy with all that 
she needs.” 

“ I am sure that we should be delighted to 
do so,” replied Mrs. Perkins, “ if you are positive 
that she will be pleased.” 

“ I ’ll answer for her,” said Miss Curtis. 
‘‘ She ’ll be glad to take a little bit of Oakhurst 
with her,” and the motion was carried just as 
the door opened and Mrs. Broad entered. 

She came with some trepidation, for she 
really had Lucy’s welfare at heart, and thought 
she was doing the best possible thing for her in 
trying to secure for her a high place in society, 
and she was thoroughly disappointed at Lucy’s 
choice, but determined, as there was nothing 
else left to do, to make the best of it. She had 
met but few of the ladies since the news became 
public, feeling too troubled to converse about 
it, but wisely concluded that no one should 
know of her feelings if she could possibly avoid 


INTERVENING DAYS. 


407 


it; and realizing that if she absented herself 
entirely from the sewing-circle which she was 
in the habit of attending regularly, her absence 
would cause remark, she waited until she thought 
the subject would have been thoroughly dis- 
cussed, which delay accounted for the lateness 
of her appearance. 

She was greeted with looks of curiosity, of in- 
quiry and of sympathy from some of the ladies, 
all of which she silently resented. 

‘'I suppose that we ought to congratulate 
you that you have the distinguished honor of 
furnishing the first missionary from Oakhurst,” 
was Mrs. French’s welcoming remark. 

“ Perhaps you would like to have Kitty go,” 
replied Mrs. Broad with more asperity than she 
had ever been heard to use before. 

“ Oh, my ! no,” gasped Mrs. French. That 
is different.” 

I think it is,” said Miss Curtis, at which 
reply Mrs. French stared at her vacantly for a 
moment, and then the subject was dropped for 
the remainder of the afternoon. 

The winter days flew quickly by. Lucy 
thought she had never known days to be so 
short before. She looked forward to her work 
with pleasant anticipation ; it was so strange, so 
new; but it meant the sundering of all her 


408 LUCY broad’s choice. 

home ties, and Lucy loved her home, loved her 
friends, and they had never seemed so dear to 
her as in these last days which were slipping 
rapidly away. 

The great world revolved just the same, 
bearing happiness nearer to some and sorrow to 
others, but never pausing in its course ; the 
snow melted and disappeared, and the tender 
green grass covered lawn and field, modest 
wood-flowers bloomed and faded, and the garden 
was gay with peonies and tulips, and fragrant 
with the scent of lilacs, when Lucy came once 
more through the hall and stood on the veranda, 
just as she had stood there before on that 
golden October afternoon when she had reached 
the final decision which was the cause of her 
standing there now. 

Very graceful she looked in her travelling 
dress of gray brown ; the satin-lined wrap of 
the came color hung in soft folds on her arm, 
and her classic face looked very sweet and pure 
beneath the little straw hat with its drooping 
gray plume. But no thought of her appearance 
entered her mind ; her trunks and boxes were 
all safely stowed in the hold of the great 
steamer ; she had taken her last look of the 
house in which she was born, the home whose 
every room spoke to her of pleasant hours spent 
in them, and now, standing with her hand rest- 


INTERVENING DAYS. 409 

ing on the veranda rail she would not look 
back. 

Carriages were passing down the street, and 
she knew that they were filled with friends who 
were going to the boat to bid her good-by. 
From the distant barn came faintly Sam’s voice, 
“ Whoa, dar, Jess ! stan’ still, you ! You needn’t 
be so impatient to take yer young missis off. I 
dunno whateber we ’ll do without her.” 

The words were almost too much, and the 
object of them had all she could do to keep the 
tears from brimming over, and she was glad 
when Sam finally drove before the door and 
reined in his horses with a dejected air, and 
Ned jumped down from his seat and opened 
the door ; glad that the train steamed into the 
station just as they reached it. She had pur- 
posely planned that there should be no time for 
conversation, and was glad that the ride to the 
city was a short one. 

Mr. and Mrs. Colburn, Dorothy and Herman 
were already there, and so were the Leicester 
folks, and soon the wharf was crowded with 
friends from Oakhurst. 

They went on board the steamer and looked 
into the state-room, so long to be occupied by 
Lucy and Dorothy, and left there many tokens 
of affection, fruit and flowers, and loving little 
notes, “ to be read during the voyage.” 


410 LUCY broad’s choice. 

Mrs. Perley set the example by bidding them 
“good-by,” and those who were less intimate 
followed her. 

Mrs. Perkins’ last words were characteristic 
of herself. “Well, I must say, I think the 
heathen are going to have the best of the bar- 
gain. I think they are highly favored.” 

Mrs. French, with a sigh of relief added, “ I 
am glad that it is not Kittie.” 

The bell rang and the shout sounded through 
the air, “ All ashore that ’s going ashore,” and 
Lucy and Dorothy bade those nearest and dear- 
est to them farewell, and bravely smiled through 
tears ; and once more the cry sounded, “ All 
ashore, that ’s going ! last call the few who had 
lingered hurried to the wharf, and the gang 
plank was taken in, the hawsers thrown off, the 
steamer swung slowly round. Lucy and Doro- 
thy changed their position and stood where they 
could see the group who were waving white 
fluttering handkerchiefs, and the strip of water 
between the steamer and the wharf grew wider 
and wider, and Margaret’s rich clear voice was 
heard above the swash of the water, singing, 

“ God be with you 'till we meet again— 

By his counsel guide, uphold you, 

With his sheep securely fold you ; 

God be with you till we meet again.” 

One voice after another joined hers, until 


INTERVENING DAYS. 


41 1 

over the intervening space of dark foaming 
waves the chorus rang loud and full. 

The people kept up bravely singing the four 
verses, and faintly and more faintly came to the 
two silent watchers on the deck the words, and 
the last sound they heard as they left their 
native shore was, 

“ ’Till we meet, ’till we meet at Jesus’ feet, 

God be with you ’till we meet again.” 

The singers watched until the two forms 
seemed to blend into one and then faded away 
entirely, and the great steamer grew smaller 
and smaller until it finally vanished beneath 
the horizon. 

Reluctantly they turned away, Miss Curtis 
heading the procession, her eyes winking hard 
behind her glasses ; Miss Pray stumbled at her 
side, her eyes so blinded with tears that she 
could not choose her way; and Harry guided 
Amy, who covered her face with her handker- 
chief and sobbed aloud while she looked grave 
and sad. 

“ I tell you what,” he said, it takes some 
grit to go off like that.” 

“ It takes grace,” corrected Amy. 

“Well, Lucy has them both,” and he com^ 
menced to whistle, fearing to trust himself with 
more words. 

Sarah walked alone with firm step, but bowed 


412 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


head and white lips; and Herman led by the 
hand weeping little Sadie, whom he tried in 
vain to comfort; and dear, mischievous little 
Hazel looked up into her father’s face, and said, 
“I’m going to be just like Lucy when I am a 
great girl, and go away on the big steamer.” 
Her father clasped the tiny hand more tightly, 
and was glad that years must intervene before 
his heart would ache again as it did then, if she 
should carry out her childish idea. 

Mrs. Broad was perfectly reconciled that her 
husband insisted that Mr. and Mrs. Colburn and 
Herman should go home with them. What did 
it matter now that Lucy was not there ? and she 
looked with some feeling of compensation upon 
Margaret — handsome queenly Margaret, gentle 
loving Margaret — as she walked beside Will, 
her sweet face filled with a peace which even 
the parting with Lucy could not cloud. She 
would have felt that her disappointment was 
greatly lessened if she had heard Will say, “ I 
am soon to take my place in the world, not as a 
missionary, but as a dispenser of the gospel at 
home, and I need help. Margaret, will you walk 
the path of life with me ? 

Margaret did not say him nay, and so joy for 
some mingled with the sadness of that calm 
May morning. 


MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 


413 


CHAPTER XXV. 

MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 

Miss Curtis stepped across her bit of a hall, 
and pushing open the parlor door, stood just 
inside, looking around her. The room had 
changed materially during her acquaintance 
with Lucy. The rattling paper curtains were 
replaced by soft white muslin ones which were 
gently swayed back and forth by the fragrant 
June breeze which came in at the open windows. 
Other pictures, beside the one given to her the 
first Christmas which ever brought to her pleas- 
ant memories, brightened the walls. Crimson, 
pink and white roses smiled from full vases on 
shelf and table. Two or three easy-chairs had 
found their way into the room, and the slippery 
hair-cloth furniture had lost its propinquity to 
the walls and lent an air of careless comfort to 
the room. 

Miss Curtis noted all this, and then sat down 
in a rocking-chair, and placing her feet on a 
hassock, began to talk with herself, a habit 
which she had formed from being so much 
alone, which fact she did not seem to mind, as- 
suring those who tried to condole with her that 
she was sure she was in good company. 


414 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


“I want to and I don’t want to,” she said. 
“ I do n’t suppose there is anything to hinder, 
and it was real good of him to think of me ; but 
then he do n’t know me. I wonder what Oak- 
hurst folks would say, and it ’s so different from 
what I ’d planned.” 

“ Well, Amanda Curtis, whom had you 
planned to please, and what are you living for, 
any way ? Are you going to fold your hands 
and mope just because you ’ve lost your best 
friend ? I wonder what Lucy would say ?” 

She paused, evidently pondering this last 
question. Her next words seemed to be on a 
different subject. “ I could put four in the front 
chamber, and four in the sitting-room chamber, 
and two in the bed-room down stairs, and that 
would leave me my room.” 

“Nice person you be, ain’t you, Amanda 
Curtis ? Supposing you should reverse that last 
statement and say you could put four in your 
room and come down stairs and sleep yourself. 
You do n’t want to ? No, I ’ve no idea you do. 

“ Let me see, how many would that make ? 
Twelve ! I wish Lucy was here. Well, she 
ai n’t ; she ’s sailing over to t’ other side of crea- 
tion, and I guess I ’ll go and see Sabrina.” 

She paused in the yard and looked up at the 
house. A thrifty Boursalt rose climbed up the 
trellis on one side of the front door, and mingled 


MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 415 

its crimson blossoms with the white flowers of a 
vine which climbed the trellis on the other side 
and waved its branches above the eaves. An 
old-fashioned cinnamon rose by the side door 
fllled the air with spicy fragrance, and the bees 
buzzed around the pinks which bordered the 
gravelled walks of the front yard. 

It was a quiet, homelike, old-fashioned place, 
and its owner was much attached to it. She 
turned away with slow steps, exclaiming, “ I de- 
clare ! I most believe I wont,” and then walked 
resolutely in the direction of her friends. 

Miss Pray stood before the table ironing a 
white apron. She made Miss Curtis welcome 
and then proceeded with her work. 

“ I have just let my Are go out,” she explained 
by way of apology, and I must use the iron 
while it is hot.” 

Miss Curtis made no reply to this statement, 
but taking her customary place in the chintz- 
covered rocker, said, Sabrina, do you think 
folks die after they make their wills ?” 

Usually,” replied Miss Pray demurely. 

Miss Curtis looked over her glasses with 
twinkling eyes, and waited. 

Miss Pray looked at her questioner blandly 
and added, “If you mean does making a will 
cause folks to die, no.” 

“ Well, I ’m not superstitious, but I must con- 


4i6 LUCY broad’s choice. 

fess that things are so strange I do n’t know what 
to think.” 

Miss Pray having no reply ready to this some- 
what ambiguous speech, carried her flatiron to 
the little closet at the left of the stove, laid her 
apron in the bedroom, folded her ironing sheet 
and placed it in the drawer, and then sat down 
by the window. 

I thought I knew just where I wanted my 
property to go, and I think I do now, but I do n’t 
know as it will go there,” commenced Miss Cur- 
tis again, in a perplexed tone, which changed to 
one of vexation as she added, “ Sabrina Pray ! I 
do n’t suppose you ’d ask me a question if you 
knew I ’d will it to you if you did.” 

I presume you will tell me all you wish me 
to know without my questioning you.” 

Miss Curtis knew by past experience that her 
gentle friend would never attempt to pry into 
the affairs of any one, so she volunteered the 
information that she had intended to give every- 
thing she had to Lucy, excepting a few things 
to one other friend,” looking meaningly at the 
pure sweet face before her. 

“ I am sure that Lucy would appreciate your 
kindness in remembering her.” 

“ But I ai n’t sure that I ’m going to.” 

“ Then she will think that is all right.” 

“You have about as good an opinion of her 


MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 417 

as I have. I wish she was here. Whom do you 
suppose I had a letter from yesterday?” she 
added with an apparent change of subject. 

“ Lucy !” exclaimed Miss Pray quickly. 

“ Certainly,” sarcastically. “ They run a 
whale express from the middle of the ocean and 
sent it the rest of the way on the telegraph 
wires.” 

Miss Pray laughed — a little musical, ladylike 
sound, which people seldom heard. 

“ Of course,” she said, “ I might have known 
that you could not have heard from her, if I had 
stopped to consider.” 

“ There 's other folks more anxious, if pos- 
sible, than I am. Did you know that Herman 
Colburn was going out there next year, when he 
is through the missionary training college ?” 

No,” and the little woman’s tone expressed 
surprise. 

** Well, he is ! going to join his sister, you 
know. Do n’t you think Althea Broad will be 
pleased ?” 

You did not tell me whom your letter was 
from,” gravely. 

‘'No more I didn’t, and you wouldn’t have 
asked only you didn’t want to hear me insin- 
uate that Mrs. Broad would n’t like things that 
way.” 

Silence on the part of Miss Pray. 

27 


41 8 LUCY broad’s choice. 

“ I know I ’m horrid,” she said contritely, “ and 
I do n’t want to be. Poor Mrs. Broad ! I ’m sure 
I ’m sorry for her ; she must miss Lucy, and I 
think she ’s tried to be nice since Lucy went. 
She goes to evening meetings and she is active 
in the missionary societies. She ’s better than I 
am, and so is everybody. Oh, dear !” 

“ Well, here ’s one piece of news that perhaps 
will please you, or two pieces rather : Will and 
Margaret are to be married some time, and he 
is going to take Mr. Clarke’s place right here in 
Oakhurst.” 

Poor dear Mr. Clarke,” sighed Miss Pray. 

“ Sabrina Pray, will anything I can tell you 
make you feel glad? Wont it be nice to have 
Will Broad for our pastor ?” 

Yes, oh, yes ; but we all love Mr. Clarke so 
much, and it was so noble in him to be willing 
to go way out to that western town, just because 
he thought they needed him.” 

And they do need him bad enough if it ’s 
anything like the town I came from. There ’s 
one thing about it : folks can’t say he ’s going be- 
cause he expects to get a bigger salary. He ’s an 
awful good man.” (Miss Pray smiled a little.) 

Now you need n’t laugh, Sabrina Pray, for he 
is. I suppose I know what you 're laughing at, 
but everybody says awful everything. I ’m real 
sorry he 's going, too ; but as long as he is, I ’m 


MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 419 

glad we ’re going to have Will. Oh, dear ; I 
must quit calling him that now. There wont be 
anything left pretty soon. And now to come 
back to what I came here for : my letter was 
from Mr. Fairbanks.” 

She was gratified by the look of involuntary 
curiosity on the face of her friend. 

“ What do you suppose he wants me to do ?” 

“ I do not know, I am sure.” 

** Take some of the girls from the Faith Home 
to board this summer.” 

“ How lovely ! but will it not be too much 
for you?” 

“ In some ways I am afraid it will : for my 
nerves, for instance. But if you mean about the 
work, no ; they all help about that ; each one 
has a part to do. What do you think folks 
would say ?” 

Miss Pray pondered this question and then 
said, 

“ A variety of things, I presume. Each one 
would have a different opinion, probably ; but 
if the proper one started it, it would be all right. 
Are you going to take them ?” 

First I said no ; then I said I did n’t know ; 
and now I think I will. I can take twelve.” 

“Only think how much good you can do 
them.” 

“ Do you think so ?” was the wishful answer. 


420 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

“Yes, I really do. You know that some of 
them are, or have been, addicted to the habit of 
drink, and you are opposed to that and can talk 
to them so beautifully about the evils of — ” 

“ Sabrina Pray, I never talked beautifully in 
my life.” 

“ I think you have. You speak from your 
heart on that subject.” 

“ I feel from my heart. Poor things ! that ’s 
what makes me think that I will take them, all 
twelve of them. And now do you see about my 
will ?” 

“ No,” hesitatingly. 

“ Do n’t you think it would be nice to will 
the house for a summer home for the Faith Mis- 
sion— a sort of annex to the Leicester one ?” 

“ My dear Amanda,” replied Miss Pray, rising 
and hugging her warmly, an unusual demon- 
stration from the quiet little woman ; “ how per- 
fectly lovely in you !” 

“ But I feel bad not to give it to Lucy, she ’s 
been so good to me.” 

“Yes, but what would Lucy say if she could 
speak to you now ?’* 

“ I know ; and I shall do it, I suppose ; but it 
is so different from what I had planned.” 

The girls came and Sarah accompanied them. 
Aristocratic Oakhurst was horrified to learn that 
twelve such girls were to spend the summer in 


MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 42I 

its beautiful borders, and when they were really 
there, passed them by on the other side, with 
cold haughty looks, and then began to feel quite 
perplexed. 

“ Do you know that Sarah Bennett came with 
those girls?” inquired Mrs. Perkins of Mrs. 
French, one sunny July day. 

“ No, but what of it ? she is one of them.” 

Mrs. French slowly shook her head. “ You 
know the Bennetts stand very high in Leicester, 
and Sarah never did anything but drink a little 
too freely, and when she reformed society opened 
its doors wide to receive her again.” 

“It was only because she was Margaret Brad- 
leigh’s friend.” 

“ That is reason enough, if it were the only 
cause, which I do not think. However, Marga- 
ret and Amy came to Mrs. Broad’s a few days 
ago for a long visit ; and yesterday Sarah left 
Miss Curtis and is going to stay with them at 
the Broads’.” 

“ How do you know all this ?” inquired Mrs. 
Perkins, trying to suppress the surprise and in- 
credulity which would show in her tone. 

“ Because Kittie called there yesterday and 
they told her.” 

“Strange that my Florence did not hear 
of it.” 

“ But the fact remains the same,” and yet 


422 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Mrs. French did not know that Sarah had at first 
refused to leave Miss Curtis, and it was only after 
very earnest solicitations from all the family that 
she finally consented. 

Mrs. Perkins seemed to be considering’ the 
news related by her friend, and evidently did not 
relish the fact that it was news, but her curios- 
ity overcame her pique and she continued her 
questions. 

Why is Sarah Bennett identified with those 
girls, any way ?” 

“ Because she is trying to do them good. She 
spends much of her time at the Faith Mission, 
though I have heard that she has commenced 
going into society again.” 

Mrs. Perkins bade Mrs. French good-by, and 
went directly to Mrs. Broad’s and called on all, 
asking specially for Sarah, but she derived no 
new knowledge. Every one appeared as of 
yore, and the wonder grew. 

Oakhurst was still farther perplexed to learn 
that Mr. Ernest Broad’s elegant equipage stopped 
before Miss Curtis’ white fence, and Sam sat 
erect on the box while the liveried footman 
held open the carriage door, and four of the 
girls took their places inside, ready for a long 
drive. 

“ Mrs. Broad is the last person I should have 
thought would have done such a thing,” said one. 


MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 423 

“ I think she has been a different woman 
since Lucy decided to become a missionary,” 
remarked another. 

*‘Yes,” added a third, “she has probably 
given up all her ambitious plans for Lucy, and 
accepted the inevitable. Perhaps she is satisfied 
with the certain prospect of one member of the 
Bradleigh family to be added to her own.” 

The last speaker did not mention certain 
plans of her own for a marriageable daughter, 
nor hint that she at all envied Mrs. Broad. 

“ I am sure,” said peace-loving Mrs. Perley, 
“ I think Mrs. Broad is very kind, and has set 
us a noble example,” and did not add that she 
had invited all twelve of the girls to a lawn- 
party to be held on her grounds the following 
evening. 

But it was noised abroad the next day, and 
then Oakhurst followed their leaders, and the 
girls were invited to elegant homes, and taken 
on drives and were made happy thereby, for it 
was graciously done, for Oakhurst was kind at 
heart, and soon a genuine love for the girls who 
had reformed and were trying to live pure lives, 
was felt, and the summer days seemed all too 
short for the pleasure that was crowded into them. 

Letters came reguarly from Lucy and Dor- 
othy. Miss Curtis sat in her parlor, one No- 
vember day, holding one in her hand. 


424 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

“ Lucy writes that she is very happy in her 
work,” she said with a sigh, to Miss Pray, who 
was spending the day with her. 

“ And so are you,” replied Miss Pray quickly. 
“ How lovely it is that you are both engaged in 
the same work.” 

Miss Curtis sat and looked at the speaker 
over the top of her glasses, with eyes so full of 
surprise that they did not even wink. 

“ Whatever do you mean, Sabrina Pray ?” 
she gasped at last. 

‘‘Just what I say. You and your dear Lucy 
are both engaged in the same work of feeding 
hungry souls. You minister to them here, and 
Lucy on the other side of the globe. The fact 
that the ocean separates you does not divide 
your work.” 

“ Do you mean to say that me and Lucy 
Broad, no, I and Lucy — Oh, dear — no Lucy and 
I, are working together ?” 

“Yes, is it not lovely !” 

“ Yes, if we are ; and — ” after a few moments* 
consideration — “ I guess you are right ; and I ’ve 
made my will and given all to the Faith Mis- 
sion, and I am going to have them come here 
every summer. Oh, dear! I feel like saying 
Glory, hallelujah ! the Lord is letting me work 
for him and she took off her glasses, rubbed 
them vigorously, and then wiping her eyes, 


MISS CURTIS MAKES HER WILL. 425 

rocked back and forth in silence for a few mo- 
ments. 

“ Do you know,” she continued, “ that one of 
the girls is from a very wealthy family, and she 
learned to drink at her own father’s table ; and 
she is converted and has gone home, and her 
father has banished it from his house and signed 
the pledge. Hurrah ! And now who do you 
think has been converted ? two of them !” 

I am sure I cannot tell.” 

“ No, I don’t believe you can : Judge Brad- 
leigh and Roger.” 

'‘Why, Miss Curtis!” and Miss Fray’s tone 
expressed the suprise she felt. 

“Ain’t you surprised? You see, I was at 
Mrs. Broad’s last night, and she was retailing 
the news to us. You see she has several 
ways of hearing all about Leicester. It seems 
that Lucy talked to the Judge about temperance 
and other things, some time ago, and he has 
never forgot it. He told all this when he re- 
lated his experience before the church ; said he 
could n’t forget Lucy’s words about, ‘ whether he 
believed it or not, he ’d got to meet it or face it,’ 
or something, I can’t just remember the words. 
Oh, dear, I ’ve jumbled all up together what 
Mr. Broad said, and what the Judge said at the 
meeting. What a pity you could n’t have been 
there on account of the rain and your headache. 


426 LUCY broad’s CHOICE. 

There, I will try and tell the rest so yon can 
understand ; but I’m so full of joy. Roger 
did n’t tell all his experience to the church, but 
when he saw Lucy giving up every thing, her- 
self included (he did n’t say that, it is just my 
idea) he could n’t stand it and he just gave up 
and got converted himself. Won’t Lucy be 
glad ? Praise the Lord ! how much good she 
has done. Even her influence when she is 
miles away speaks for good. Hurrah 1” 

Dear, quaint, outspoken, tender-hearted Miss 
Curtis, well may you exclaim, for your work will 
go on and on, with perchance little meed of 
praise from the world, but the Father above 
who knows your sacriflce of home comfort for 
the benefit of others, shall Himself reward you 
openly. 


AFTER ONE YEAR. 


42; 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

AFTER ONE YEAR. 

Oakhurst, June 27, 18— 

“ My Dear Lucy : — 

“ It seems very strange for me to be writing 
to you from your own home in Oakhurst, and 
dating the letter from my home. Of course you 
have heard why I am here, for the letters telling 
of the beautiful self-abnegation of your former 
pastor must have reached you by this time. 
Will, at first, thought it not wise to settle here, 
but the church would not listen to a refusal, so 
he finally consented and has been preaching four 
Sabbaths. I miss Mr. Clarke very much, and 
dear Mrs. Clarke also, and am quite sure that I 
can never begin to fill her place, she was so 
wise and withal so gentle. I am glad the people 
were so attached to them, for it bespeaks a kind- 
ly feeling for his successor, although I think 
Will always had the love and good opinion of 
every one in Oakhurst. 

“ You may not have heard that Mr. Clarke’s 
only brother lives in the same Western town to 
which he has gone, and that this brother has 
led a dissipated life, and that this fact had great 
weight in Mr. Clarke’s decision. He had tried 


428 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


for years to influence him through letters, but 
the reply always was, 'You do not know the 
temptations to which one is subject in this part 
of the country.’ It seems that they have a 
small church edifice, but no regular pastor, and 
it is frequently several weeks at a time that they 
have no chance to attend divine service. ‘ Long 
enough between,’ so the letter said, ‘ to forget 
all the good received before.’ 

" Now to come back to my own home, which 
I will not describe in detail as the plan has al- 
ready been sent to you. You will remember 
my saying many times when on a visit to you, 
that I thought the lot opposite your father’s 
the pleasantest unoccupied site in Oakhurst for 
a dwelling-house; and I think I was correct, 
and you may possibly imagine -how pleased I 
was when your father presented us with a deed 
of it. 

“ I am sitting by the open window of my 
special ' sanctum,’ marked number seven on the 
plan. Your own dear home is just the same as 
when you left it a little over a year ago. The 
lawns are as green, and the flowers are sweet 
and bright. The front door is open, and there 
comes dear little Hazel as we still call her, al- 
though the diminuitive adjective is becoming 
incongruous, for she is growing quite tall and is 
like and yet quite unlike your own dear self. 


AFTER ONE YEAR. 


429 

She resembles you in form and feature, and the 
color of her eyes and hair are the same as yours, 
but she lacks that quiet dignity which seems a 
part of yourself. She is just as full of fun and 
mischief as of yore, and just as good-natured. 
Now she is pulling off the roses and pelting her 
kitten with them. She still insists that she is 
going to be a missionary ‘ Like sister Lucy.’ As 
Mrs. French remarked the other day in reply 
to her statement, ‘she will make a jolly one, 
for the sight of her dimples is enough to call 
forth an answering smile on any face.’ 

^‘Your dear father looks very grave when- 
ever he hears her say so. I do not know what 
he would do if she should really carry out her 
idea. He misses you more and more. Do you 
know that he is my ideal of a Christian gentle- 
man. 

“ Mrs. Broad, too, is very lonely without you. 
I think she is trying to fill your place in all the 
charitable and benevolent works of Oakhurst, 
and she really does a great deal of good. 

“ Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. French are about the 
same as when you bade them good-by, although 
I think your decision has caused them some se- 
rious thought ; they certainly were very much 
surprised at it. Florence and Kittie are as live- 
ly as ever. ‘ They say ’ that Kittie is engaged 
to your cousin Harry Eliot. I put it in just this 


430 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


way because I have no positive knowledge of 
the fact, and should be very sorry did I know 
that it were true. I can write this now as I am 
a member of the family whose credit Amy has 
always been so anxious to keep up. Sorry 
for Harry because I do not think that Kittie’s 
influence over him would be the best possible 
under the circumstances, and sorry for Kittie, 
because Harry is still inclined to be dissipated. 

There, I have written in plain English what 
you probably have had hinted to you in several 
letters ; and oh, Lucy, I regret so much my part 
in it. If I had only listened to you the morning 
you called before my party, it might have had 
an influence on not only his life, but several 
others. Your uncle is convinced now that it 
takes Harry too long to “ sow his wild oats 
convinced that there is no immediate prospect 
of his settling down to any kind of business, 
and he has at last banished wine from his table, 
and even Amy and her mother are fully recon- 
ciled to it. Not that Harry is a common drunk- 
ard (excuse my plain vernacular, but as I have 
heard Miss Curtis say, * I won’t give no dignity 
to the traffic in any form ’). He is not that yet, 
but has been seen a number of times when quite 
overcome with liquor. I am so sorry for him ! 
sorry for them all. Poor Amy ! it is very hard 
for her to bear, especially as she now realizes 


AFTER ONE YEAR. 


431 


that she probably might have influenced him in 
the right direction both by precept and exam- 
ple. 

She is much happier than she was. She has 
fully renounced all questionable amusements, 
has taken a class of little girls in the Sunday- 
school, is vice-president of the Christian En- 
deavor Society, and active in church work. She 
is to spend the summer in Oakhurst ; we expect 
her next week. 

“And now about dear, splendid, noble Sarah. 
Excuse so many adjectives, but they all apply 
to her. I think I never saw a greater change in 
any one. The appetite for wine is wholly taken 
from her : it had never once returned since she 
fully trusted her Heavenly Father for strength. 
She never goes where it is unless she thinks she 
can do some good, and then she is perfectly fear- 
less. She has gone into society again, but with 
the one object of doing good, and she has already 
accomplished a great deal. She thinks, as Miss 
Curtis expressed it so long ago, that very much 
is done for the common drunkard, but compara- 
tively nothing for those who stand high in soci- 
ety ; and her influence has caused many not only 
to refuse all kinds of wine as a beverage at par- 
ties and entertainments, but to pass all viands 
flavored with it ; and several families have ban- 
ished every thing of the kind from their tables 


432 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


on public as well as private occasions. She still 
visits the Faith Mission often, and spends her 
summer in Oakhurst at the ‘Annex,’ as Miss 
Curtis dubbed her own home — which title still 
adheres to it. 

“And now I have some good news for you. 
Will is to have a baptism next Sunday, his first ; 
and who do you suppose are to be two of the 
candidates ? My father and Roger. It seems too 
good to be true. Miss Curtis said that she had 
written you all about their “ experience,” but 
she forgot to tell you the reason why they related 
it here. My father has sold his place on the 
Hudson, and has bought the old parsonage and 
had it remodelled, and is to spend his summer in 
this place, and so both he and Roger thought it 
would be pleasant to unite with the Oakhurst 
church. Oh, Lucy, I am so happy ; and it seems 
to me that many people in this place are, too, 
and that in some way it is connected with your 
decision to become a worker in the vineyard on 
the foreign field. 

“ Dear Miss Pray fairly holds her breath 
when one of your letters is read at the mission- 
ary meeting, and when she has one ‘all her 
own,’ as she terms it, she sings about her work 
for a week, all unconscious of it ; and when Miss 
Curtis said one day, “ Sabrina Pray, you ’re a 
small woman, but you manage to let your voice 


AFTER ONE YEAR. 


433 


be heard to some effect sometimes,’ she only 
smiled and said, ‘ I am making a joyful noise 
unto the Lord.’ 

I can understand now why you thought so 
much of Miss Curtis. She is truly a noble wo- 
man and self-sacrificing to an unusual degree. 
Her love and admiration for you are unbounded. 
I am glad that you write to her so often. No 
one can fill your place to her, but I will do all 
that I can to make her life as happy as it is use- 
ful. 

Little Mrs. Perley is as sweet and helpful as 
ever. I wish she lived here all the year. Who 
do you think has taken a seat in our church ? 
No other than Mr. Sinclair, and I believe, it is 
the result of the words spoken to him so long 
ago by Mrs. Perley when she called there osten- 
sibly for money towards painting the meeting- 
house, but really to speak with him about other 
and better things. He says that as the church 
is in such a good condition financially, the house 
in good repair and no debt, there is no reason 
why he should be asked to contribute anything 
but his pew-rent ; at any rate he is going to try 
it for a while, and we shall take good care that 
he is not solicited to give while he remains in 
his present frame of mind. 

“ I called to see Mr. Johnson yesterday, and 
told him the story of my unbelief and subsequent 

28 


434 


LUCY broad’s choice. 


Struggle into the light. Refusing all argument, 
I urged him to search the Scripture as I did. 
He seemed much interested in the first part of 
my remarks ; incredulous at my conversion and 
bored at my questions from the Bible, but prom- 
ised before I came away, to read it for himself 
and try and accept its truths. 

“ Give my love to Dorothy and tell her that 
her letters are always welcome. Sadie is coming 
to make Hazel a visit a little later.. Poor Sadie ! 
she is inconsolable at her sister’s absence. Un- 
like Hazel, she declares that she will never leave 
home for the heathen, unless it is to make Dor- 
othy a visit ; and when we smiled at her rhet- 
oric she looked very sober, evidently failing to 
see the meaning which might be put upon her 
words. 

We all miss you more than I can express ; 
and yet had I the power I would not call you 
back. 

“ The lunch-bell is ringing so I must close. 
Yours as of yore, aye more, for I can sign my- 
self 

“Your loving sister, 

“ MARGARET." 

And so they are all engaged in the same 
work : Lucy and Dorothy in their Oriental home, 
laboring bravely in the midst of discomforts, dis- 
couragements and privations. Miss Curtis, in 


AFTER ONE YEAR: 


435 


proud Oakhurst, is proving herself a blessing not 
only to heart-broken girls, but to the people of 
her own town, who, appreciating her self-abne- 
gation, are, many of them, following her exam- 
ple, by ministering to the needy in spirit as well 
as body. Sarah, strong and courageous, is work- 
ing among those who need just such an influ- 
ence as she can give — those on whom the world 
looks with envy, because they are prosperous in 
all worldly affairs, and to whose actual soul-needs 
but few give a passing thought ; and Margaret 
and Will, in their new home, are giving time 
and thought to the bringing of all classes to the 
knowledge of a Saviour’s love. 

Each in his own place, but all treading the 
same path, though separated by the wide and 
boundless ocean, they fully realize the impera- 
tiveness of the last great commission, “Go ye 
into all the world, and preach the gospel to every 
creature,” and understand the fact that “ the field 
is the world.” 















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